


The Broken Link

by Kathrine



Series: Chains of Myst [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/F, Fake Character Death, Gen, M/M, Magical Warriors, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2019-11-21 11:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18141869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kathrine/pseuds/Kathrine
Summary: Fate is a chain of self-fulfilling prophecy. Built choice by choice, the links slowly bind thee.Since their first meeting, Mikaelhien and Kuyien’s paths have been intertwined as rivals, friends, and companions. Two warriors of Paetoran fighting for the peaceful prosperity of their kingdom. But staring down forced retirement and a life trapped within the capital's walls, Mikaelhien agrees to a    mission where she must not only fake her death, but could be branded a traitor if caught. Her actions have consequences for Kuyien, who hunts the killer and the truth.Damaged by the soulbond Mikaelhien does not know exists, Kuyien struggles to keep sight of her goals and identity when faced with the choice to help her friend or abandon her. The path they travel is filled with turmoil, and the truths they find more a beginning than an end.  Outside factions know of the mission and have their own stakes in its success or failure.





	1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

  
  
And so it began, that which could become her end.

“I present Mikaelhien Na’Lilhae to treat with you, Lord Faoru,” her mother announced as she stood in the doorway of the chief’s parlor. Mikae stood behind her, head bowed. Like waiting in the night, a warrior holding steady for her captain’s command to act, she stayed poised for direction. Prepared. Vigilant. Duty to the mission, even one such as this, could not be taken lightly. 

“Please enter, for you honor my brother with your acceptance,” Taemani said. He leaned against the arm of his cushioned chair, casual and unconcerned, although his words met all formalities expected of Lord Faoru’s second. For that was all this was to be, Mikaelhien assumed, mere formality. 

The tension in her neck throbbed off-beat to her heart. She lifted her head, eyes taking in everything she could in the brief time she had before returning them to them floor. She took her place on the low cushioned bench across the table from Faoru and his brother, her mother sliding easily onto the seat beside her. Things were silent for a moment until she felt the tip of a finger glide across the outside of her thigh.

“We owe many thanks for your invitation,” Mikaelhien placed her fingers to her lips, then to her heart. She smiled, soft, simple, and grateful. All as she had been taught.

“May this meeting bear fruit for our families and wealth for our clan,” Faoru bowed his head in return, but only briefly. 

It was an average day, for one to meet their husband-to-be. And at first sight, Faoru Na’Doroun was an average man. Five years her senior, still young by their ways, but with many accomplishments held to his sash. He was to be the leader of the clan, yet there was something in his gaze--a stubborn streak in the thin line of his mouth--her trained eyes could never overlook. There was more to her target than his stiff apathy belied. Not that it made this mission easier to complete. 

All in all, she had not been sure what to make of the “bargain” her mother had procured for her. This so called elusive chance to become the next Chieftess and keeper of the clan history. An honor she would be more than pleased to turn down if her opinion ever had been asked. And yet here she sat, awaiting judgement for whether she would be found suitable or wanting. 

Awaiting the Reaper’s claws upon her neck would have been more preferable than the oppressive weight of formality and expectation.

It was not the first time they had met or spoken to one another, but the context of a chief’s son and fellow clan member acknowledging each other was very unlike that of a chief and his potential wife’s first meal together. The performance could not be more different. She knew what her mother expected of her and delivered with the skill of one trained in the art of presentation. Skills she had not learned in the home as her mother would prefer to claim.

There was simple, cotton conversation, mostly between her mother and Taemani about clan daily business and even the upcoming graduations from the academy, a topic her mother would never deign to introduce on her own. Yet she knew how much Faoru would care, for he was the chief-in-waiting and those were not only members of his clan, but potential recruits to the Guard in which he captained. When it suited her, her mother was ever adept in seeming to care about things others would like her to care about.

Faoru himself rarely spoke throughout the meeting, only providing his voice to the room when prompted by his older brother. It was with no direct gaze that he studied her, but still Mikaelhien felt eyes thoroughly staring down the top of her head. She stiffened herself against the pressure of them, though she remained slightly bowed and disarmed. 

How long the talking went on about her, Mikaelhien couldn’t be sure. The breeze beyond the open window, ruffling leaves and carrying the song of birds, provided the distraction she needed to maintain her role. She did not touch the simple, sweet foods laid out on the table, although they smelled more than appetizing. She did not even touch her cup of chilled fruit water Taemani had placed in front of her seat. Her mission was not to speak or move. She was a statue, offered by the master artist to a patron for their favor. 

“I’m sure that Lady Mikaelhien would know whom to ask, then, for the proper recommendations,” Taemani said and she realized she had lost enough time to become disconnected from the conversation entirely. Luckily, her mother had no intention of allowing to her ruin her efforts by speaking.

“If that be Lord Faoru’s wish,” Lilhae insisted with a hopeful glance at the man in question. “What incidental knowledge she has could prove to be of little use, particularly once she has settled within the home, but Mikaelhien would withhold nothing from her chief, nor her husband, should the proposal prove pleasing enough to our lord.”

“No doubts had, milady,” Taemani assured her. “As if a child of your upbringing would present any.” The words pleased her mother enough to cause a flattered chuckle of air and a wave of her hand in his direction. “Truly, Lady Lilhae, if it please my brother, this union could only be of great benefit to both clan and kingdom.”

There was pause, and Mikaelhien knew then her mother and Taemani awaited some response from the man who sat across from her. Then, as if finally having assessed her every feature, weighed her value and measure before coming to his decision, Faoru turned his gaze and gave but the briefest of nods in acknowledgement of her.

“To the good of the Istaeli, she shall do.”

The words did not cause her mother’s smile to falter for even a moment, as if she already knew how Faoru would react. Mikae took her cues from her mother’s pleasant countenance, keeping her fingers from clenching in the material of her new gown smoothed over her thighs. It chafed her with its softness. She smiled and nodded with the lift of her shoulder, tilt of her head, as if she was listening to anything more they had to say. As if she didn’t want to bite through her own cheek. 

Only someone with such a hold over her could dismiss her thus. He undoubtedly knew who she was and what she capable of. It made her wonder at her own acceptance of this marriage proposal. Why should Mikaelhien choose this man, who did not even speak to her during their proposal meeting? If the mission demanded such sacrifice, why not the dozens more who would actually _want_ her? She was not without prospects, without options beyond this room. She knew this. She knew that all she had to do was stand and reject him much the same way he had all but waved away her presence. 

Her mother’s hand came to lightly pat her on the thigh as she continued to speak, giving another soft, indulgent laugh at something that Lord Taemani had said. That touch reminded her exactly why she sat there.

_For the good of the clan, no Istaeli’s sacrifice is ever too great._

Ψ Ψ Ψ

She endured being sent out into the hall after her soon-to-be husband made his proclamation and dutifully did not listen in on what was going on inside. Mikae had little doubt on whether she would remember anything else they spoke of had she thought to do so, besides. When her mother exited some time later, the satisfaction around her may as well have been a physical shroud of honor. Not even bothering to speak to her daughter, Lilhae turned towards the doors leading out of the home. Mikaelhien silently stood and followed her. They exited the chief’s house and stepped onto the path that led through the center of their district and to their home on the far northwestern end.

Finally, Mikaelhien was able to relax her body. The mission was complete. She had achieved the objective.

“He was very taken with you,” her mother commented.

“As you believe so, Mother,” Mikaelhien replied, only to then blow a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. As if Faoru was capable of being interested in anything more than what would benefit the clan. She was nothing more than a means to an end. Continuing on the strongest bloodlines in the clan, ensuring the might of the future. 

Her mother knew that as well as she did and yet still bore that pleased look on her face, “Oh, he was. Mothers can tell about these things.”

She didn’t bother to voice her own opinion on the matter, as her mother would not care in the end. She had been set on this course of action since the announcement had been made at one of the clan meetings that Faoru was to take over the clan in his brother’s stead. Even previous to that, she had been more than _open_ about her desire to see her daughter wed to ‘someone of high standing.’ 

The Chief of their clan was suitably high enough, Mikaelhien supposed. 

Arranged marriages were custom if it was thought that the clan would benefit from the union, and Mikae knew that the Istaeli were not the only clan to encourage such practice within the kingdom. Thus there seemed little reason to argue with the way of things. For all that the winds of change had swirled through Paetoran since the last War-That-Wasn’t, the ways of the clans took time as they ever did to follow.

They arrived at their home shortly and Mikaelhien stopped to remove her new, stiff, too-small sandals. The relief of their loss was enough to make her stretch her toes into the cool, wooden floor. She looked over to stare as familiar eyes ever seemed to follow her movements. Her father stared back at her from the intricately painted portrait displayed atop the simple memorial in the lounge, his face serious as it had ever been. She bowed to the memorial, fingers to her lips, and then moved down the hall to her room. 

It didn’t take as long to remove the fancy excuse of excessive fabrics as it had to put them on. Surely something to be grateful for. She shed the restrictive coat and gown across the floor of her room like a snake peeling off uncomfortable skin too small for its growth. The knife strapped to the inside of her calf was removed and returned to her bag by the wardrobe. She pulled the jeweled perfume charm from around her neck and tossed it toward her chest of drawers. She did not care if it landed in the open jewelry box, only happy to be free of the delicate scent of sweet pea that had been assaulting her nose all afternoon. If only everything else could be removed as easily. 

After changing into a simple loose shirt and trousers, she made her way into the kitchen. Her mother was already there, pulling out vegetables and the mostly prepared fish from the chilling chest, not having bothered to change from her more formal dress. Mikaelhien knew which would be her duty for the night so she collected the other items she needed, washed her hands, and then turned to tap the upraised black stone set into the corner of the smooth stovetop twice. It glowed a soft orange for a brief moment—once, twice—and she knew she had ten minutes before the stove would be properly heated.

“—quickly, as the decision would be announced at the clan meeting this week,” Lilhae was saying, as if her daughter had been paying close attention the entire time. “Saa, Mikaelhien, my child, this is everything that you could want. A good husband that will give you the strongest children. The pride of the clan will be upon you.”

Mikae refrained from responding--it was not as if her mother expected elsewise when she was in form for speaking--instead cutting up the fish to be rolled in the breadcrumbs for frying. It was sturdier than most fish, but even borealis carp could not be left for too long, having already been marinated in the proper spices and juice for four hours that day. Still she had to take care of the intended softness. It would crumble if she was not gentle with the swiftness of her blade. Fortunate for them that signing away her hand had not taken too long or else she thought it would have fallen apart and been too soft for anything more than-- 

There was a light tickle near her neck and she spun to face the threat. The knife in her hand flipped easily in her fingers for better handling, so quick juices from the blade flicked across her cheek. She didn’t hesitate.

Her mother moved backwards quickly, hand held closer to her body, but thankfully uncut. Mikae’s eyes widened. “I… I deeply apologize, Mother,” she said, her arm lowering, and her gaze straying to the knife still clenched in her hand. “I did just return from an extended mission this morn. My responses may still be primed.”

It was a weak excuse and she knew it.

Her mother was silent for a moment, only to stand straighter, eyes cut. “I see,” she said, softly. The smile on her face was more pity than understanding. “Well, that is something you’ll have to control. You wouldn’t want to attack your husband out of some misplaced _instinct_ would you? The thought of it. Perhaps it is best if you retire from the Legion ranks sooner than the wedding so as to prevent such worries, when you could even bear a knife at your own mother.” 

She then turned to leave the room, the wide stare that her daughter gave her and the food both left steaming and unnoticed. She took her measured, thoughtful steps down the hall as she always did, but stopped before turning into the lounge.

“Oh, and you must begin growing your hair. Long and pretty like it was when you were a girl, remember? Sir Faoru mentioned that it may be too short for the bridal ribbons.” Then she was gone, presence trailing behind her like a long shadow.

Mikaelhien’s empty hand flew up to touch the ends of her hair, just an inch or so beyond her chin, a tickle above her shoulders. Then she clenched the locks for a few seconds, tugging harshly until the stinging spread over her scalp. She breathed deeply, forcefully relaxing the fingers before dropping the hand back against her side. Her eyes wandered away from the meal left unfinished, back to the knife in her still tight fist, shining, stainless and smooth. It gleamed with the light from the open kitchen window, as if asking her what she intended to do with it.

The answer would forever be nothing. As it had begun, so had her end come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming this far in reading my story, the first I've posted on AO3 and the first in a very long time period. I'm hoping by posting it somewhere public, I can motivate myself to continue writing it and finally complete it. You get a three-for-one at first, but I will post a chapter every couple weeks I think, and hopefully that kind of schedule will keep me honest working on this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was both the most beautiful and most distressing place she had ever been, even in all her travels. This was the Capital of Paetoran. This was Survidae.

**Chapter 2**

  


It was not until the next day that Mikaelhien left her home again, as she had been surprisingly given leave to provide her report of her last mission to the appropriate office the following day. A stay her mother had procured for her with means Mikae--again--did not see a reason to inquire about, as she knew a true answer would never come. It was enough, and allowed her to take the evening and night to prepare for what would be expected of her.

Her mother had already began preparing for the wedding. Mikae exited her room the following morning and found her looking through old chests brought out of the storage beneath their home, full of antiques and heirlooms passed down from mother to child in their family. The time alone had allowed her to smile with some honesty as she bowed, fingers to lips, and greeted her, “Fair morn to you, Mother.”

“May the morning be fair enough to our purposes,” Lilhae waved her on distractedly, not interested beyond the cursory welcome as hands and eyes focused on the trove of history and heritage she was sorting.

Assuring Mikae that she would have plenty of ideas and options from which she could make her selections when she returned home for the day, Lilhae sent her on her way. There was so much planning to do, she could not possibly take the time to break her fast with her daughter. Mikaelhien could easily pick up something in the clan market on her way, couldn’t she? No need to waste any food in the house that would sit uneaten when there was a wedding to put into motion soonest. Her fingers strained from the effort, but Mikaelhien left the home and her palms in no worse condition that she had awakened to them. She did indeed have other things to focus on.

“Fair morn to you, Na’Lilhae!” Cousin Gaeroun tapped two fingers to his mouth and then his brow with a smile before raising them in the air. “Barely home and already more to do?”

“Duty is never done, and we would expect no less of any soldier,” she replied, tapping her own brow and giving a bow of her head.

“One would think you would get more time to settle,” he frowned and shook his head, even as he continued to push his small cart of milk cans down the road. “Expecting such work of you at your age, ‘tis not polite. You have more you could be doing with your life.”

Mikaelhien did not bother to point out that she was going off to do work she had put off from the day previous. It would matter little in the eyes of Gaeroun, as it would matter little in the eyes of many Istaeli. “And more I will. Worry not,” she said. “Fair morn to you.”

She continued by him as quickly as she could and worked her way out of her clan’s district with minimal further distraction, despite the greetings and offers to sit and converse that were provided from various other cousins and aunts and uncles. They had not seen her since before she had left on her nearly month-long mission, she knew. But better to not spend the time supposing who knew what already and who still had to learn in two days’ time of her situation.

Mikaelhien decided against getting any food from the clan bakery--no need to create a potential encounter just yet--and instead continued toward the Inner Ring, the central government of the Capital and the seat of the King himself. From her clan's district within the Guardian Ring, only twice removed from the center, one might assume it would be an easy trek through the streets. _But_ , she thought with some cold humor, _those who assume such have never experienced the Market_.

The Paetori Market spread outward from the Inner Ring into the next like the winds of orderly chaos, full even so early in the morning. It was both the center of the city’s trade and that of those traveling through to sell their wares. Full to the brim with life by way of brightly colored tents, tables, and carts. Shops held their doors and windows wide open to entice people to enter by either smell or sound of other customers doing business. Music filtered through above the noise, as musicians plied their songs for audience coin or other patronage. Animals provided their own cacophony two blocks down in their pens.

Thick, yet smooth like oil on the skin how easily one could become captured by it or use its nature to become lost within the crowds. It was a skill in and of itself to be able to move deftly through the masses, and Mikaelhien was a master. She avoided being bumped, shoved, or jostled lightly on her feet, a dance that never stepped the same foot twice. It was both the most beautiful and most distressing place she had ever been, even in all her travels. This was the Capital of Paetoran. This was Survidae.

Built like a mountain to be impenetrable, it could not sustain the growth within its Great Wall, the first line of protection laid upon Survidae's creation, even before the founding of the kingdom. So came the Rings, built further and further from Apaedicul, the Palace, as the city grew, its people prospering and others traveling to seek protection by the united clans that had opened their gate to welcome them. This was a city built by those who had bled for its protection, whether by myst or by blood, and in service of its king. The highest honor one may achieve.

 _Or so I had thought_. Perhaps she should have better remembered to whom her blood belonged, to whom _she_ belonged.

Perhaps Mikaelhien also should have better remembered to keep her mind on her feet and her surroundings instead of the maudlin thoughts within her head. Else she would not have had to endure the shock and embarrassment when she was almost tripped by the long wooden staff suddenly extended in front of her as she walked. It struck her roughly in the shin and had it not been for her reflexes and balance, she would have crashed into the ground. Or worse, the cart filled with stench-ridden straw from the animal pens that cut before her down the street.

There was a shout of surprise--thankfully not her own--and a laugh of playful mischief just as she managed to land rightly on her feet. She took two steps before spinning on the ball of her foot to see exactly who she knew had caused her near humiliation.

“Great apologies, Legionnaire!” a stout man entreated, a hand to his chest as if it had been he who had caused the slight. His other hand stayed on the pole of his tented shop, tables covered in trinkets and jewelry made of metals and precious stones. Perhaps he was the one who had provided the staff unwittingly, but it was the far-too-pleased woman beside him, blood-shade locks flickering about her dark face in the wind, that she knew was truly to blame. Still the man continued, “I did not know that she intended to act so recklessly or else I--”

“Oh good sir, please feel no need to seek her forgiveness,” the maiden cut him off with assurance. The amusement in her voice was obvious as she patted his shoulder lightly. “It is fair Mikaelhien who should have expected such a strike in the first place, for the challenge between us is only but two days old.”

Mikaelhien stared her down, despite the greater difference in their height being in the other woman’s advantage, lips a thin line of exasperation. “I do believe that challenge was one made by another in my stead and recall telling you that I would not honor it, no matter your attempts to enforce it, Kuyien.”

Kuyien did laugh outright then, a brief little bark as she spun the staff in her hand then tossed it back to its owner. She strutted easily over to Mikaelhien and did not hesitate to reach out and tug at the inky locks brushing her friend’s chin.

“That itself is the true challenge,” she remarked. “And I care not if you are an Istaeli. I never back down from challenges, Mikae. You just make them more entertaining.”

She did not sigh, but it was a near thing--there was little point to it considering shame and embarrassment were not things Kuyien Na’Soraelou was capable of feeling--and Mikaelhien instead turned again to the poor flustered merchant who had been caught up in her friend’s antics. “Seeing as she is too boorish to do so herself, I shall apologize on her behalf. Might I purchase one of your pieces?” She motioned to one of the tables filled with jewelry.

“Y-Yes, of course!” the man agreed quickly. “At a bargain, even, milady, to ensure all is even between us. Please look over the selection and see if anything catches your eye.”

Kuyien snorted, but didn’t correct the assumption that she would not be seeking forgiveness for her little bit of mischief. Still, she looked over the offerings of the merchant’s mobile shop as if she was the one who would be doing the purchasing. Mikaelhien looked over them herself, but the tables nearest to her were mostly brightly colored, gold and silvers, not truly the colors she herself was interested in for what she had in mind.

Suddenly Kuyien stiffened, body tightening in anticipation from where she stood two tables over. “This one!” she called out and Mikaelhien looked up to see the piece she had chosen. The table was covered in dark metals with various stones and gems, and the bracelet Kuyien held was no different. Black and grey twisted and wrapped around each other like links, meant to be bent to fit snugly against the wrist, but it was the stone set within the bracelet that stood out the most. Swirls of reds broken by streaks of black to the point it almost looked at if the smooth, shining stone had an eye in the center of its sphere.

“Oh, quite the eye you have, milady,” the merchant said, recovered from his mortification in the face of a sale. He plucked the bracelet from Kuyien’s hand and held it up to display it better for Mikae’s viewing. “Kaimala is a rare stone in these parts, not found nearly as easily as it is in—”

“We don’t need to know the history of the stone to buy it, do we?” Kuyien asked, plucking it back from his fingers. “It’s a beautiful piece and she’s certainly going to buy it, since you have promised her a bargain.” The man frowned slightly, fingers twitching at the interruption, but did not contradict her.

“Certainly?” Mikaelhien said. “I don’t recall saying that was a piece I’d buy. It’s not my fashion.” Jewelry generally wasn’t her fashion if one were to ask her, and Kuyien knew that full well. Still, she did have her cousin Zerilhae’s coming of age approaching within a month or two, so she could simply save the accessory for then and present it to her. Kuyien had a differing intent.

“Who said you would be wearing it?” she asked, not wasting a moment before slipping the bracelet onto her own wrist and tightening it just so. “See? Fits me perfectly. And it’s certainly my color.”

Her eyebrow raised at the declaration, jaw stiff. “First you attempt to trip me and now you want to use my discount for your own benefit? Poor opponent you are to claim a victory prize before even besting me.”

Kuyien’s eyes glittered, “You all but admitted that a challenge does indeed exist, and that means I’ve half-won it already.”

Banter normally flowed easily and circled between them with both the flowers and thorns of a rose vine, but Mikaelhien was not up to that challenge either this day. She shook her head and turned easily, her strides taking her away from both the merchant’s tent and Kuyien who called out after her.

“Mikae? Mikaelhien! Come back! It was a simple jest. At least--”

“Milady, you can’t just--”

“What are you doing, let go of--”

“The _bracelet_ is still on your wrist! Buy it or remove it, please, I do have other customers to assist!”

“Oh, that. Well you certainly could have said that before you…”

The voices faded far enough away then that all Mikaelhien could hear was the garbled sound of their continued speaking mixed within the sounds of the Market around her. It was no longer her matter to concern herself with. Kuyien was always getting herself into rather bemusing situations and expected Mikaelhien to somehow get swept away in them just as she did. How foolish of her. At least once a day she made her consider the question of whether she’d grown past her fledgling years.

“Mikae, slow yourself already!” The frustrated voice was much closer now and she could feel the air shift as Kuyien simply dodged between other people moving about their mornings to get to her. She still didn’t stop. She hadn’t come out that day to see Kuyien as it was, so all she had done was allow herself to become distracted enough that she could be late for her scheduled debriefing.

There was the sound of chains clinking softly together to her left. She lifted her arm up into the air, away from the hand that had been reaching out to grasp her wrist without bothering to glance at the girl now walking next to her. “I haven’t the time for this,” she said instead, eyes still ahead on the Iron Door leading to the palace that was close enough to see the intricate engravings of the Great Stag’s feathers as they spread out from its back.

“What’s become of you?” Kuyien fired back. “I don’t remember the Mikaelhien I parted from at the gates yester-noon having the stiffness of a petrified raekmiel.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Mikaelhien huffed, steps faster now. Kuyien kept in stride with her easily which vexed her all the more. “It is hard to feel any sort of amusement at your behavior when it is somehow always at my expense. And still, I have no time for it. I have to debrief with Sidyalon and if I’m late you know he’ll either dock my pay or give us paltry choices for our next mission.”

“That’s not what that was about, but deflect as you like,” Kuyien told her. “Still, you know you have no worries from Sidya of all people. He would marry you for your record-keeping and pristine handwriting alone if he thought he had a chance left.”

Mikaelhien came to a stop, head spinning to stare up into Kuyien’s now wide eyes. “Why would you say that?”

“Say what?” Kuyien blinked and then wrinkled her brow. “Truly, what has become of you, Mikae? We’ve teased you about Sidya’s worship of your penmanship on more than one occasion. You act as if it’s the first time it’s been brought up.”

“You never mentioned him wanting to marry me before,” she insisted.

Kuyien laughed in bemusement. “It was a simple turn of phrase to express how deeply he covets your skill in perfectly fitting your overly detailed yet concise reports into the space of a standard scroll. Nothing to remark upon, Mikae.”

Right she was. It was nothing more than the simple, careless style of jests and banter that always flowed from Kuyien, who had little in way of responsibility or awareness to think about what saying such things could mean. Especially now that making such statements could look very poorly on herself and Faoru should any other Istaeli hear them and assume it meant more than hot air exhaled from Kuyien’s mouth.

“Mayhap you should consider the way your words sound to unfamiliar ears for once and spare me the embarrassment of whatever rumors might come of them,” Mikaelhien warned. “You have no recourse to cease being as careless as you like but do leave me out of the gossip gaggling.”

She had expected a bristling response. Possibly even more preferred, a loud departure as Kuyien decided her not worth the trouble of even speaking to in her current ‘mood.’ Instead, she stood straighter, towering over Mikaelhien at her full height--even worse as she insisted on wearing those frustrating heeled boots that were far more about fashion than practicality--and looked her right in the eyes. They stood alone in the sea of people, even the noise of life around them falling away for a brief moment as that golden stare caught her and Mikaelhien was laid bare.

Only a moment it was before Mikaelhien turned away and started walking again, as if she could leave Kuyien behind and avoid whatever might be coming. But it was enough for her to know that she had been seen through. Her friend followed and nothing was spoken between them immediately.

It was such a short distance to the Iron Door that Mikae almost thought she could make it into the Inner Ring and spare herself. So close was she to freedom from what she knew might come, but steps from the guard station she sensed more than felt the hand reaching out to touch her. She chose not to stop it.

Fingers carded lightly through her hair before tucking it behind her ear, the tingling sensation spreading over her whole scalp. “Mayhap you should spend the night at mine, instead of going home tonight,” Kuyien offered. “Certainly, your mother won’t miss you over much.” Mikaelhien knew what she truly wanted to say.

_Spend time at mine if it’s too much already. Care not if she misses you._

“Is that an invite, or a plea to help you clean whatever mess you left there before our mission that has likely taken over your home?”

Kuyien laughed, the strange, heavy air around them dissipating with the sound. Then she smacked Mikaelhien on the shoulder with the back of her hand and pointed ahead of them as the Iron Door opened to allow a group of approved visitors exit from beyond the Great Wall. They all went their own separate ways, making room for the next group that would be allowed through, only one head of sunny, wispy curls stood out among the rest, ever familiar no matter the distance.

“Look, there’s Aesa!” Kuyien said, waving at him broadly. He turned, having heard her voice carry over the distance, and smiled back at them. He raised an arm in greeting.

“Fair morn,” Aesalyae said in return, pleased and at ease. Kuyien covered the last few paces to him quickly and clapped an arm over his shoulder, his back hunching with the force of it. She ruffled his curls, tossing them about until they fell into his brown eyes and he had to push them back or remain blind.

“Of course you’d be here bright and fresh today, considering we’d been gone for so long,” she said. “Your friend keeping you busy with his troubles this morn?”

He simply chuckled in response. “Alas, I’m not one to see for treats of gossip today, Kuyi,” he told her. “I merely gave my formal respects and stayed to break the fast. If my ‘friend’ as you so call him needs me, he knows where I shall be.”

Kuyien looked disappointed by that, as she would be, considering that one of her favorite pastimes was needling Aesa about said ‘friend.’ Still, Mikae was thankful that their previous discussion seemed duly forgotten and she could make her own way to the guard station. The two could continue their conversation well enough without her.

 “Mikaelhien Na’Lilhae. Istaeli. To see Missions and Reports for a debriefing, Officer Jaerian,” she announced, pulling the specialized medallion signifying her as one of the Branched Legion from her front pocket and showing it to the guard registrar.

“Fair morn, Istaeli,” she said. Barely glancing up at the medallion, the guard officer wrote her name and purpose into the thick leather-bound book of visitor records. “Get to line quick, next inbound group will be going in less than five minutes.”

She gave a nod of her head, tapping her fingers to brow and moved out of the way for the next visitor. She took her place in the entry line, only to be distracted once again by a voice calling her name. Kuyien was there again, pulling Aesalyae along behind her even though he showed no intention of trying to leave away just yet. “When you’re done making Sidya weak in the knees with your signature, meet us at Reisin’s,” she said. “We’ll dine together. Late morning meal. I’ll save one of those muffins for you.”

Mikaelhien didn’t bother to turn back. It wasn’t a question being asked so much as Kuyien telling her what she expected. Then she heard Aesa’s voice. “I’ll make sure she spares you more than that,” he assured. To that she merely held up three fingers, still facing away from them and toward the Iron Door.

“Fine, fine,” Kuyien sighed loudly even as Mikaelhien dropped her arm and distinctly did not smile--not that Kuyien would not see if she had. “You’ll have your muffins, you greedy mouse.”

 

Ψ Ψ Ψ

 

Her debriefing was brief indeed, for it did not take long for her to verbally retrace all important events and actions taken during their mission into Trystoi. Yet somehow it felt as if she had been there for hours. Mayhap it was the recently stoked awareness of Sidyalon’s eyes on her—well, her hand that held the inked pen to be precise--as she wrote her words down onto the records’ scroll. Professional and strict he may be, but the way he never took his eyes from the strokes and curves of her writing as it filled the empty spaces never became less…discomfiting.

Still, every person had their oddities. It simply was easier to ignore when a certain person wasn’t reminding her of it.

“Is that all of it?” he asked when she’d finished and passed the scroll back to him.

“As detailed as necessary,” she said, because even she didn’t include every bit of information. If it did not pertain to the mission, or the kingdom’s security, why bother including it?

Large, thick fingers handled the scroll with care and efficiency they reserved for little else, stamping the approved seal onto the back before passing it back to her. She took her medallion from her pocket, pressed it into the ink cloth present, and then stamped the scroll with her own seal. Sidyalon lifted it to inspect before rolling it and tying it off with twine. “As expected,” he said. There was a brief quirk of the corner of his mouth. “If only everyone else took the care you do.”

She let out a huff of air, not hiding the roll of her eyes this time. The toils of the office-stationed Legion was well known, for they never missed the opportunity to bring up just how much work every other Branch made for them. “Fair morn to you, Sidyalon,” she gave her farewell and left the busy office.

It was bustling not unlike the Market beyond the Great Wall. Voices rang out from all corners of the hall within the tiny stalls, created for the various mission distributors and record keepers by thick curtained partitions set up to distinguish each officer’s “room.” There was no shouting but the sheer number of them echoed off the walls to create a very distracting experience. The whispers sounded so loud bouncing off one another that they may as well have been yelling across the room.

A few of the officers raised they hands to greet her in polite reflex and she gave nods of her own in return, but didn’t bother to speak to them. Pushing open one the thick doors that exited into the wide airy corridors of the Right Antler, she took in a deep inhalation and enjoyed the fresh breeze blowing through. It was much more welcome than the thick hot air of too many bodies and too many mouths in such a confined space. How people like Sidyalon handled such restriction, she could not possibly understand.

Looking out the window and into the sky, she could tell even without pulling her timepiece that not much time had been wasted and she could make it to Reisin’s possibly even before Kuyien and Aesalyae--if the expected distractions and procrastinations occurred as they always did when those two were left alone. Loyal and steadfast Aesalyae Na’Yuvion indeed was, but skilled at keeping Kuyien on time for any kind of preset engagement he was not.

Down the stairs she went and was about to walk from the shadow of the tower’s stairwell into the sunlight when someone else stepped out in front of her, halting her movement. It was someone’s Hand, messenger and physical extension of whichever high clansmen they served. She could tell by their simple yet pristine tunic, and their posture of one used to speaking to others with the authority of someone else behind them, but the lack of a crested sash on their shoulder was not usual.

“Pardon me, milady Mikaelhien Na’Lilhae, but your presence has been requested,” they said before she could even ask at their approaching of her. “It would be greatly appreciated by my Lord if you would follow me with _discreet_ urgency.”

Mikae was not easily ushered anywhere, not even by a Lord. It would be a slap in the face of the Istaeli, especially now. “I am not as inclined to follow when I know not to whom I am being led or why,” she said instead.

“Apologies,” they said, tapping their hand to their chest. “That is not information I have been given leave to present to you at this particular moment.” Mikaelhien knew it was less that moment and more that _location_.

“And if I were to refuse?” she inquired.

“I believe it would not be in your best interests, milady,” they said, head tilting slightly to the side. “I was told I could impart to you that my Lord is in need of your help and that should you accept his proposal, in turn he could assist you with another you may have already…accepted.”

She stood struck still, realizing after a moment the only ‘proposal’ they could be speaking about. For someone outside of the clan to already know about it meant that the Hand’s Lord was either high-stationed and privy to clan relations or low enough to not think twice about sending spies into the Istaeli district to learn of it on their own. Mikaelhien wasn’t sure whether to follow the Hand or follow the voice in her head that sounded far too much like Kuyien and provide them an answer distinctly more violent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of three for my first posting, as a set up, but I'll be keeping it to one post every couple weeks after this (although maybe an extra will get sprinkled in every now and then). Thank you for reading this. It's not as polished as it could be, but I am hoping that by writing this and posting publicly I will keep myself honest and finish this story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

  
  


Block. Block. Dodge. Strike.

Strike. Strike. Left. Two steps. Duck. Spin. Kick.

Brace. Flip. Kick. Spin. Block. Push. Strike.

Block. Strike. Spin. Strike. Kick. Strike. Stri--

Mikaelhien’s entire body whiplashed as the staff was jerked from her hands and her assault of the training doll abruptly halted. Kuyien rolled her eyes, her hand outstretched to catch the wooden staff she had just used her own chain to snatch. “You haven’t heard a word Aesa or I have said in the past twenty minutes, have you?” she asked. “Certainly the poor doll is sorry for whatever it’s done to affront you.” Aesalyae stood up from the large tree stump that had been used as a stool for decades by all who frequented that field and the look on his face was one of concern.

“Unlike you I haven’t the time these past few days to train appropriately,” Mikaelhien said instead. “Dullness comes quickly to the blade ill-cared for. I’m making up for the waste.”

 “By beating wooden dolls into submission?” Kuyien arched her brow. “If you needed training that direly I could have sparred with you instead of waiting around for the doll to beg forgiveness.”

She clenched her fists only to instantly open them at the burning ache. Looking down she could see the red scrapes and burns from the wooden staff she had been holding too tightly and shifting in her grip too quickly for her skin to handle. There was a sigh then, but she did not look up, knowing what it meant. Aesa touched Kuyien on the shoulder, silencing whatever was to come next from her mouth as he stepped around her to take Mikaelhien’s rough hand into his own. The golden tanned fingers smoothed over her own and she fought the urge to pull away.

“Wrapping your hands next time will help with the soreness,” he said. “Or perhaps I could adjust the wrappings of your grip with new leather.”

It was the closest he might come to a rebuke, for it was something of which he knew she was well aware. Mikaelhien did not wince as he inspected the palms and even dug a thick splinter from the pad beneath her middle finger. For someone who could enhance himself to break through stone with one strike, Aesalyae would always have the hands of a healer--gentle, cautious, methodical. She kept her eyes focused somewhere to his left, not looking at him, but not giving Kuyien the validation by staring in her direction either.

There was a cool tingling that waxed along her hands like the most soothing of balms. She let it calm some of the heat that was building inside of her. Attacking training equipment did little to distract from how much had changed in her life in the past seven days. Seven days that she would rather forget had happened just as she would like to forget the 173 days that would follow them until the changes would culminate in a ceremony her mother had more than in-hand preparing.

 “That should be enough,” Aesalyae pulled his hands away and she could still feel the tingle on her skin, refreshing like a cool damp cloth on a hot day. She knew that her hands were now fully healed, not even a scratch left to remind her not to repeat her foolish behavior, but the healing was deterrent enough on its own. If there was one thing she and Kuyien would always agree on, it was how much they hated abusing Aesalyae’s mystkraft if they could.

True Healers were not so easy to come by and few lasted as long as he had in the Warrior ranks.

“My thanks,” she said softly, but Kuyien just huffed again at her behavior.

“Next time he should leave you to your consequences,” she said. “You know better than this. You’re becoming reckless and that’s supposed to be my role in this company.”

Never doubt a Vaosira willing to speak their minds where others might defer out of politeness.

“Kuyi,” Aesa cut in before Mikaelhien could even open her mouth to reply. “Everyone pushes themselves too hard sometimes. That’s why their companions are there to watch over them.” He lightly ruffled Mikaelhien’s hair, cooling it too with the breeze blowing from the west between his fingers. She allowed it for ten seconds as a show of gratitude, but then grasped his wrist gently to move his hand away.

“Enough,” she said. “I have been reasonably chastised and feel sufficient guilt at not monitoring my own welfare to the detriment of those whom might be concerned. Can we move on?”

Perhaps they would have done so on their own, but the trot-thud-clatter of hooves against the ground caught their attention. They turned as one toward the road worn into the grassy fields by years of use to see an attendant bearing the gold and green crest of the Kingdom of Paetoran on the sash over their chest coming down the road on horseback drawing another, rider-less, steed behind them. Mikaelhien did use that second of distraction to take back her staff from Kuyien’s hand, deftly removing the chain still wrapped around it so that it dropped to the ground with a heavy clunk. Gold eyes glanced at her before rolling up toward the sky. She chose to ignore it.

“What news are you bringing, Attendant Biora?” Aesalyae asked, brow furrowed.

“No dire news, Sir Aesalyae,” the young servant bowed from the waist atop their horse, the attendant’s cap sliding on their pale head. Young, likely very fresh to the position, Mikaelhien assumed, as she had never seen them before. “Great apologies for interrupting your afternoon, honorable Legionnaires. But I do bear a message as your presence has been requested.”

“Ours?” he said. “Do we have an unexpected mission?” Mikaelhien tense in anticipation, for a mission at that moment would have been lovely. Particularly one that might have encouraged the use of her sword.

Mayhap she had not been punching the dolls for long enough if her thoughts could stray to sounding like Kuyien so easily. The one standing beside her was more than enough.

The attendant shook their head rapidly, two fingers tapping at their chest in apology. “Forgive my informality. I meant you, Sir Aesalyae Na’Yuvion N’Avoraen have been requested for an audience.”

Despite the very stiff declaration and invitation--or perhaps indeed because of it--Kuyien smirked, nudging Aesa on the arm with her elbow. “And I would assume the steed is to ensure his arrival will be forthwith?” she asked.

“Indeed Lady Kuyien Na’Soraelou,” the attendant said, untying the lead for the second horse from their saddle and then extending it to Aesalyae to take.

Aesalyae smiled as always, taking it with a bow of his own head, tapping two fingers to his brow. “Many thanks, Attendant Biora,” he said. “Should I make my way to the Great Hall?”

“The Sun Dome, milord,” they told him. What little bit of tension there may have been within Aesa faded, his shoulders becoming lax and rolling easily. Biora then pulled the reins of their dappled steed and turned back toward the road. It was the quickest route back through the ring and to the main road for Apaedicul.

“Our time has come to an end, I would say,” he sighed, although the smile still had not yet left his face. “Perhaps we could meet up again tomorrow morn?”

“Are you sure you’ll have the time for us? Your schedule has certainly been busy these past few months,” Kuyien remarked. “What with the healing lessons and these frequent _audiences_ , how do you even have time to train with us, let alone go on missions? Isn’t that so, Mikae?”

How easily things could shift with conversations diverted. Mikaelhien was grateful for said diversion and flicked her hand lightly in the air, dismissively. “What would he do without us?” she asked. “He would be driven to madness by his own boredom if he didn’t account for activity in every second of his day. Sleep is a mere inconvenience.”

“Ba, Mikaelhien, don’t agree with her so easily,” he laughed softly even as he lifted himself in the stirrup and up over onto the horse’s back. “Tomorrow. Promise. I’ll send a messenger. Do keep each other out of trouble as best you are able.”

“Saa, saa,” Kuyien reached down to pick up her chain from the ground, infusing just enough myst in it to make it slide easily back around her waist and link itself in place. “I’ll shield the poor dolls from Mikaelhien’s wrath before they decide to rise up like raeklyr and take their revenge.”

Mikaelhien hits her in the leg with her staff then, too quick for Kuyien to dodge and the other woman hisses in pain, putting some distance between them as she rubbed her thigh. Mikaelhien hoped it would bruise.

“Somehow I do not feel reassured in this moment,” Aesa commented but it didn’t stop him from directing his horse away from the training ground and toward the inner city. “At least wait until tomorrow to injure yourself. Why don’t you eat and talk? It’s been a busy week for us all.”

Kuyien pulled her hand away then, staring at Aesalyae with eyes searching for something that Mikaelhien could not place. She then shrugged a shoulder and waved to him. “Mayhap we’ll do just that,” she said. “Mikae can treat me to lunch and cakes from Maritae’s.”

Mikaelhien frowned, sliding her eyes across to stare at Kuyien’s far too pleased face. “I don’t believe I agreed to this arrangement.”

There was a look on Aesa’s face, but it was not directed at her. Whatever passed between him and Kuyien in that moment, she knew she would come to know soon enough. Secrets never lasted long between them. Kuyien casually twirled her fingers in Mikaelhien’s hair, uncaring about the tangles she wrapped between them. Her body pressed against her shoulder, and she knew if she moved a step her fellow warrior would lose her balance. Not enough to fall to the ground, which would have been greatly more amusing. She decided not to bother. What good would it do?

“You owe me for putting up with you this whole week,” Kuyien decided and waved her free hand back out to Aesa. “Be gone to your friend, Na’Yuvion, before he worries you became distracted helping a poor elderly woman carry her books home and lost track of time.”

Aesalyae looked to the sky for a moment, shaking his head. “Saa, saa, well tidings to you both then. ‘Til the morrow.” And with that, he was gone, off down the road at a casual enough pace that one who did not know him might think he was not enthusiastic to get to his destination.

“Do you think you could mayhap remove your hands from my hair?” Mikaelhien asked softly. “You’ve more than enough of your own if you feel the need.”

“I miss when your hair was longer,” Kuyien said. “Remember all the different ways I used to braid it? If you hadn’t cut it, certainly it would be longer than mine by now. You should grow it out again.”

 Suddenly their simple conversation no longer had the same meaning. Mikaelhien dislodged Kuyien’s from her hair with her free hand as she stomped her staff into the ground with the other, making her way to the road herself. Horses were rarely necessary within the Capital unless one needed to move quickly and expend little energy. She had more than enough to make her way back to the Istaeli district with buckets to spare.

“By the damned, what have I done _now_?” Kuyien asked, breathing loudly. “Barely a sentence can be spoken to you without a syllable or phrase bleeding whatever pleasantness you have left from you. I know I am not as deserving of the weight of thorns and ire you seem determined to set upon me.”

Mikaelhien was still walking away, her back so stiff and straight the staff she clutched was less rigid. “If that is how you truly feel, then by all means, do find another target for the attentions from which to derive your amusement. Surely will I know a moment of peace when you do.”

There was a noise behind her, something between anger, hurt and desperation. Mikaelhien’s jaw groaned with tightness, but was thrown by the grip on her shoulder that jerked her back and spun her around so quickly her hair flew into her face, obscuring her vision. Still those golden eyes stared down at her.

“I’ll forgive that slight, but I’ll not forgive another like it,” Kuyien warned. “If you can’t talk to me about what has so taken your reserve, then strike at me fairly, not with petty words I know you don’t mean and you’ll only regret later. Even when we hated each other, you never sought to hurt me for the sake of easing yourself.”

Anger was not foreign to one Kuyien Na’Soraelou but the look in her eyes was not one of rage--not the umbrage of indignation or the fury of vengeance--no. It was something else that still burned her and weighed too heavily for Mikaelhien’s shoulders to bear. There was already far too much. Her mother, Faoru, the clan, and even the proposal of the Councilman sat upon her with a force that left her feeling as if she could never stand straight again.

“I’ve never hated you,” the words burst from her lips with force, despite how softly she uttered them. Slowly the stare from Kuyien softened, her eyes no longer hard but teasing in that familiar pull that had been there as long as Mikaelhien had known her.

“I know,” she acknowledged. “Yet there are times when it may be hard to tell the difference. Your revenge burns just as deeply. You never let one forget their offenses.”

Not the usual chastisement from Kuyien, but effective enough. Mikaelhien pulled away, lacking the force she had initially intended. Her friend did not fight her. Her eyes trailed away, gazing off into the distance at the trees and the easily visible sight of the towers, Antlers of Apaedicul reaching out beyond the leaves and even the walls. So close and yet so far away. It felt as if there was a chasm forming between the castle and herself. Between the Legion and herself. In time it would grow too large to cross under her own power.

“Mikae?” Fingers slid over her back, from one shoulder to the other before curling around her at the joint and pulling her in. She did not lean in, but neither did she pull away a second time. “Aesa wanted me to talk to you, but I doubt it would be of any use to you right now when all the things I wish to say are things you already know and would rather not hear.”

“Then why bother even mentioning it?” she asked, soft and distant.

“To at least be able to say I did indeed do what Aesa asked of me,” she replied. “‘ _She listens to you, Kuyi. She needs to let out what she’s feeling, Kuyi. Get her to talk to you, Kuyi._ ’” It was a terrible facsimile of Aesalyae’s voice and tone, no doubt intentional. Far too nasally and simpering. She did not laugh. If she started she might become too lost in the irrational feelings inside of her to stop until she’s doing something entirely the opposite of laughing and that was a strike to her pride that she could not withstand. So Mikaelhien hit her with her staff. Kuyien allowed it to connect with her arm, but didn’t flinch.

“At least let him be present when you mock him so he can critique you on your lack of effort,” she said.

“Oh, please, as if he doesn’t already know,” Kuyien dismissed. “Besides, no matter how he might wish otherwise, you know we were never ones for talking.”

Mikaelhien should have expected the move, and would surely place blame on the plethora of distractions in her life for being caught off guard so easily. Still the chain around her ankle hadn’t even clinked in warning before it tightened around her and pulled her off her feet to the ground. Her back hit with a heavy thud, body tense from the shock more than actual pain. Kuyien stood over her, the other end of her chain twirling easily in her hand.

“Now let’s see about _really_ working all of that stress out of you,” she smirked. “If you manage to land a true strike against me any--”

Mikaelhien was more than satisfied to prove her wrong by swinging the staff she hadn’t dropped up and aiming right for Kuyien’s smug face. Her friend jumped back to avoid the blow, and that’s all it took for Mikae bring the staff down on the chain cuffing her leg. Kuyien expected that move and quickly pulled the chain back, preventing her primary weapon from being stabbed into the ground. That result suited Mikaelhien just as well. She swiftly pushed herself back to her feet, bracing herself with her staff held at the ready behind her with one hand, the other held out defensively in front of her. If only she’d thought to carry her sword to the training grounds, penalties for over damaging the dolls be damned. Still, her staff was more than enough to deal with Kuyien’s overconfident self.

“I thought you said we weren’t ones for talking?” Mikaelhien teased back, because this was something she knew intimately well. _This_ needed no extra forethought or deliberation. She would beat Kuyien into the ground and probably thank her for the distraction with a meal later. Maybe even a cake from Maritae’s as she so desired. She would forget all the things they hadn’t discussed in no time at all.

 

Ψ Ψ Ψ

 

Mikaelhien was bruised, aching and deliciously worn to the bone by the time she finally dragged herself back home. Fighting against a strong opponent always did that for her, and Kuyien never failed to deliver on her boasts. After hours of exertion, pushing each other’s limits even as they ensured they never crossed the line to do true harm, they had been too tired to even eat. Kuyien had sworn her to oath that she would treat her to cakes sooner rather than later. It was the least that she could do, even if she did put up the obligatory protest at first.

Giving into Kuyien easily only led to her expecting the same and Mikaelhien couldn’t have that.

She entered her home, removing her dusty cloak and shoes, only to find her mother waiting for her in the den. Lilhae was sitting in a manner that some might believe was peaceful, sipping at her cup of laiberry water, but she knew better than to take the image at face value. Mikaelhien gave the customary greeting to her father’s portrait, before turning to face her mother and giving her the same. “I’ve returned, mother,” she said, stating the obvious, but erring on the side of formality. “Should I begin preparing dinner?”

“Oh, don’t bother yourself,” her mother said, still holding her cup closer to her chest, eyes closed. “I had planned to prepare something, but considering lunch was left uneaten when you didn’t return home, it’s still perfectly edible. I made sure to preserve it for you.”

Mikaelhien’s eyes did not stray from the ground where they fixated on her feet. Her mother had requested her home before dinner, and here she was, with plenty of time for her to clean up from her day of training and still prepare a meal. She had not disobeyed her, but she had missed something this morning. There was a phrase or word she had not followed to its true meaning. Too distracted and eager to flee.

“Apologies,” she brought both of her hands up to her breast as a show of remorse. “I will make sure to return at a better hour tomorrow.”

“See that you do,” her mother said, taking another sip of her water. Mikaelhien stood there, unsure whether that was a dismissal or merely a pause. Her mother took her time, barely a sound made as she drank. Finally, after leaving Mikae to stand for what was undoubtedly an eternity in anticipation, she looked up at her, eyebrow raised in expectation.

“Well, go on,” she said. “Clean yourself up. I’ve set clothing out on your table for you. You’ll need to begin dressing like the wife-to-be of our Chief, not a scruffy legionnaire who can’t even bother to brush her own hair.” Then she let out a sigh of despair. “It shall never grow if you treat it so unkindly. I’ll bring you oils to use on it after you clean it. Something from my personal collection.”

Her neck burned at the criticism. She would take Kuyien’s playful whining at any time over this. “Yes Mother,” she nodded, turning away to complete her mission. A mission to become the daughter her mother expected when she exited the bath. To shed herself and reform her face, if not her essence. It was the one mission that was always found incomplete and wanting and bore the worst consequence. Even death mattered little in the face of a mother’s disappointment.

Mikaelhien found that the bath was already set with the heating stones ready to be activated and didn’t waste the time doing so before opening the valve to the fill pipe. The water would come down the pipe from their small silo outside the house and into the bath quickly, so she only took the time to set her supplies along the wide brim of the bath before divesting herself of her clothing and stepping in. It was nearing the end of the spring, the air growing more humid and warm with each passing day, so the water wasn’t cold enough for her to need to wait before entering.

Sinking into a seated position in the rapidly filling tub, Mikaelhien let out a soft sigh. It wasn’t one of relaxation and appreciation, for she had no time for that. She grabbed the cleansing oil and the brush, pouring some onto it before building up a lather that she used to scrub her body as efficiently as possible, then she used the same oil for her hair. By the time she had sufficiently covered her body and hair in the suds infused with tiny rocks and minerals it was time to shut the valve, preventing the bath from overfilling. She let her fingers drift for a moment, gliding through the water. She needed her eyes and should have been cupping water into her hands to rinse her face but didn’t. She left herself drift backwards, body slipping into the tub to rinse herself, eyes closed and breath held.

The round pool of a bath was not wide enough for her stretch out, but it provided more than enough depth for her to float on her back down to the bottom, even the islands of her knees submerging as the water was displaced. She felt the heat at her back, the stones pulsing in slow rhythm to maintain the desired temperature. It flowed over her body, the ripples of change in temperature tickling the skin of her back and moving over her limbs, up her cheeks.

The heat beckoned her, as it did all Istaeli, calling her back to it. She knew if she wanted she could touch the bottom of the iron-wrought bath and siphon the warmth into herself, boil the water from her skin with the heat of it. But she didn’t. As much as focusing on the details of her surroundings calmed her, the presence she felt so close by prevented her from truly being lost in the flame-walking her mind longed for.

She opened her eyes to the distorted and warped figure hovering over her, blurred red and orange with the colors of afternoon through the curtains. Head tilted in a way through the fracturing water that almost looked as if its neck was broken crudely. She let the heat she had taken on fade away from her, colors returning to normal and the tingling of her eyes disappearing. Mikaelhien lifted herself up, body breaking back through the water calmly as she sat up and wiped the excess water from her face so she could see.

“Lean back,” her mother instructed, setting a rolled towel on the rim of the bath. She followed her directions, scooting back until she sat on the upraised seat built into the bath, her back pressed against the iron wall, and leaned her neck onto the towel. It propped her head enough that her mother could reach all of her hair, what she had of it. Lilhae lifted the top from the intricately carved bottle in her other hand, the cork dangling on its string as she poured the oils in it onto her palm. She proceeded to rub the oil onto her hands and then into Mikaelhien’s hair, stroking it through thoroughly before pouring more oil and rubbing it into her hair again with her fingers.

Kuyien loved stroking her fingers through Mikaelhien’s hair when it was longer, braiding it, smoothing it until there were no tangles left to be found and weaving ribbons and charms into it as was a custom of the Vaosira. It was her complaints about how brittle and broken much of her hair was that led to Mikae choosing to cut it off. More practical for their work and easier to manage, unlike the veritable tail of blood-fire Kuyien herself insisted on taming each day. It had grown since but she kept it above her shoulders and until now--until Faoru had made his remarks--her mother had left it be. Until Faoru, her mother had let so many things be.

“You’ll need to do use this on your hair at least three or four times a week,” her mother commented. “It will help with the growth and heal much of the damage your…work has done to it. I’ve never seen an Istaeli woman with such lack of care for their body. Little wonder Lord Faoru noticed.”

Lack of care? Yes. Her body was tightly corded muscle and sinew, light but durable. She had bent and warped and melded it like a blacksmith would a blade until it was perfect for her purposes. Still, it was the worst kind of care for an Istaeli woman preparing for her union. Killing may come with ease, striking down the enemy with little effort or danger, but her body was not built for domesticity and child-bearing. For someone such as her mother, who ruled the home like a queen and played voice to the community of her peers for the council, she had taken very poor care of her body indeed. Her hair was but a symptom of her neglect.

“Mikaelhien.” Fingers pressed into her temples, calling for her attention. Mikae opened her eyes, seeing her mother’s dark gaze stare down at her.

“You must fulfill your duties to our clan,” she said. “It was my failure as your mother to not prepare you as well as I should.”

Mikaelhien’s brow furrowed, mouth turned down in disagreement. “Mother, you have not--”

“Hush, child, I gave you no leave to speak,” she chided her, fingers still firm on the sides of her brow. Mikae held her tongue and the pressure softened to gentle strokes through her hair once more. “It is my failure and I bear it as the weight it is. Too soft on you, was I, after your father was gone. I let you do as you please, flitting about with that reckless, <i>Clan-less</i> child, for it soothed you. I gave into your whims when I should have reminded you of how important we are to our people, rather than allowing you to lower yourself with people beneath your station.”

Ah, yes. Lilhae N’Anryael was not fond of Kuyien Na’Soraelou.

The sentiment was mutual.

Mikaelhien did not question the whys of their contempt for one another, for it was readily obvious to anyone who saw them within close quarters. It merely was what it was and had always been so, even when she’d been young and Kuyien the one who stood outside her home all but begging for Mikaelhien to come out and train with her. She had not been Clan-less then and yet this disdain had been no less biting. She had never had such tense relations with Mikae’s father, which was a mystery Mikae had questioned, more than once, and yet could never quite solve. It merely was what is was and had been so until his death.

Her mother paused after those words, letting them trail off as if to sink into her skin deeper than the oil she was rubbing into her scalp. Mikaelhien knew there was more to come and when it did her mother’s voice was cold. Empty.

“You seek to guard a kingdom, but a kingdom’s protection must begin at the hearth. We are the guardians of our ways, like farmers guarding for next year’s crop, and you must provide the future soil to plant those seeds.”

Her hands stayed beneath the water, pushed flat against the seat where she sat. The water barely rippled on the surface.

“Still, you learn quickly when you put effort into your duties,” Lilhae continued on, tone suddenly casual. “That much is shown through your current… _endeavors_. It should not take you long to learn your role as the Chief’s wife and take your place as the Keeper of our history. I, myself, will be far too busy, with how long it has been since there was an Honored Mother to guide our chief, and Lord Faoru will have much need of me. I will not be able to guide your hand every step once the union date approaches.”

With those words she pulled her hands away, reaching for the towel to her left and drying them on it before getting to her feet. She set the cork firmly back into her delicate bottle and moved away from the bath. Mikaelhien sat up, eyes focused on the sudsy, lightly opaque water, light rings of translucence left where bubbles had once floated.

“Rinse some of the oil from your hair, but not all of it,” her mother directed. “Then dress so we may eat and begin. Time is not on our side.”

“Yes, Mother,” she said, as expected, for she was right as always.

Time was not on her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three of three to set the story up posted. Kind of like how a lot of webtoon series start out with three chapters up front. I hope this provides a foundation of how things will work in the story and I'll be ready with the next chapter in two weeks. Thank you all for taking the time to look at this story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for implied/referenced interrogation and torture and attempted suicide.

CHAPTER 4

KUYIEN

 

 

The road was still wet from the rain two days prior, soft and easily disturbed. The worst for hiding one's rapid, haphazard movements through the brush that still had leaves yet to fill it in after the recent storms. As they carefully worked their way back through the growth and towards where they had left their horses, Kuyien dragging their prey behind her in chains, it seemed so painfully boring.

“You know, I would almost feel some pity for you,” she said, not bothering to look back to him as she spoke. “To think you could steal from the home of the Diplomat of Alxae, making off with priceless scrolls and heirlooms, yet not know that they had security observing you? You didn’t even think to test the very mirrors you had stolen to ensure they weren’t charmed to record all who gazed upon them.”

Of course, Diplomat Paeli had sent word to the Capital as soon as they returned from their biyearly visit back to their home kingdom. The mission had been dispatched to collect the thief and return them promptly. It had barely taken them any time at all to investigate and follow his trail. It was almost insulting in how easy it had been considering the Company they had chosen for the task.

The thief did not respond to her and that was fine with Kuyien. She was not truly seeking a response from him--not right then.

“No need to pity him for his own lack of forethought,” Nira said, casually picking what small burs she could reach off her trousers as they walked. They had avoided the worst of the prickly shrubbery known to blanket the ground in this region, but still she had managed to gather enough to make her own tiny, stabbing bush.

“But how could I not pity him?” Kuyien asked with a smirk. “Just look at him, now. Is not the fate of the amateur thief who aspires too much too soon pitiable?”

“Mayhap some good may come of it yet,” Nira said with her own chuckle. “Diplomat Paeli has been refusing to move to the Capital off that estate for over a decade. They may choose to live closer to the Rings now that it’s proven their protections are not enough to ensure the security of their home. There simply aren’t enough Guardians stationed in this region.”

“One might say that perhaps they should better disperse the Guardians instead of ask an elder to uproot themselves,” Kuyien countered.

“One might also say that thieves could choose not to steal and solve the problem altogether,” said Nira. “Which of our options do you think the more likely?”

Kuyien knew exactly which. The Lord General of the Guard was not likely to decide that a more rural and less populated area was deserving of more patrols and guardians, no matter how great the disparity in the rate of crime. To ask a thief to give up their life of illegal acquisitions was unlikely, and yet still more possible.

She gives a little huff, but it’s far from anger or frustration. She rarely felt that way when she was with Nira, even when they often disagreed purely for the sake of having a conversation based around that disagreement.

There was another prickling bush on the ground that she stepped around, but the grunt escaping through clenched teeth that she heard but a few seconds later was proof her captive had not been so lucky. She does look back at him then.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” she asked. He glared at her and there was such fury in his eyes that she wondered how much longer it would take for him to at least say _something_. “You know this would be much simpler if I did not have to drag you. But you tried to run twice already. If you won’t make it convenient, then what am I to do but chain your legs as well?”

“You could have killed him where he fell when you caught him and been done with it.”

Nira snorted loudly, “The paperwork for that would have been far more inconvenient. Now are the tents prepared so I can change into fresh boots? These are so muddy I can feel it in my toes.”

They must have been closer to the camp than she had realized if Mikae came to meet them. Nira was already walking past her to the tented area Aesalyae and Mikaelhien had prepared for them in the short distance, but Mikaelhien barely gave a move of acknowledgement toward her.

Kuyien smiled and hefted the chain over her shoulder once more, adjusting her grip. “She’s right you know,” she said. “Do you know all the paperwork I would have do? Be kind, Mikaelhien. We still need to…”

She voice trailed away as Mikaelhien walked by her, right to the prisoner, gripping her fist tightly into the collar of his shirt and cloak, twisting it into his throat. She dragged him up to his knees, despite the chains holding his legs tightly together. Pale eyes were wide, a strangled groan escaped. He may have been taller than her by a head or foot, but on his knees all he could do was stare up into her dark eyes. Kuyien could feel the air change, growing heavy around them.

“Mikaelhien that can wait until—”

“We’re on a time limit,” she retorted, still maintaining her stare down with the thief. Yes, Kuyien knew that well herself. Find the thief. Find if he had any accomplices in his theft. Kill him if he resisted or return him to face the law council. Find any accomplices and deal with them as such. They had three days to complete their mission and it took a day’s ride to get here and track the thief down.

“I am aware, but that does not mean we should rush our interrogation of him purely for the sake of expediency,” Kuyien said.

“Why bother dragging it out when we know the information will not be hard to come by,” Mikaelhien said. “He may have played the part of a sack of manure during your stroll, but that tongue will not hold for long.”

The surprise and fear from her abrupt treatment seemed to have faded in the thief, for now he smirked in defiance. No words came, as it was obvious he intended to maintain his silence. Mikaelhien did not seem annoyed by his shift in demeanor, but the fist at his throat tightened and it was obvious there’d be no space left to breathe if this continued.

Where was Aesa? Had he known she was in this mood when he let her meet them on her own? “For an Istaeli, your patience can be short lived,” Kuyien said, hoping it would give her pause.

Shoulders tensed, eyes widened, a jaw going lax slightly before tightening. So he knew of the Istaeli. Good. Perhaps he would spare them and his own self the trouble now that he had some clue of what might be at stake. If he had any sense at all, that is. There was myst in the air and Kuyien could have breathed it into herself if she inhaled deep enough. She had to stop her own fist from clenching around her chains.

“We have not the time for patience,” Mikae replied, undeterred, before giving full focus to their suspect. “Now, fool thief, all we require is for you to tell us if anyone conspired with you to steal from Diplomat Paeli. Attempt to feed us lies and I will have to get the information from you in means that you will not enjoy. This is all the warning you shall receive.”

“Mikaelhien, we should wait for--”

There was a noticeable shift in the thief’s jaw, something that Mikae immediately saw herself. She released the man’s shirt and grasped at his face, clenching her fingers in tightly so his mouth was forced open. There was a grunt and gurgle as she forced her free hand between his lips, grabbing at the side of his mouth into the pocket of his cheek. He threw himself backwards, trying to get away from her, but all it did was bring the force of her body down upon his as they fell, her knee immediately going into his stomach.

He did cry out then, but it was all garbled in his mouth with Mikae’s hand holding it open as she dug around. Still, the struggle did not stop, despite his position. The air warmed around them to the point that Kuyien’s ears buzzed from it. Mikaelhien stared into his eyes and commanded, “ _Be still_.”

Everything stopped. The man collapsed back against the ground, mouth open, drool dribbling on his cheek and chin from his futile efforts. Wide eyes did not move. A once heaving chest did not rise. Finally, Mikae pulled her hand free, wiping it on her pants.

“What happened?”

The calmness in Aesalyae’s voice certainly belied the expression on his face, when Kuyien turned to see him arrive with Nira at his side.

“I only walked far enough away to know trouble happened,” Nira started, “Why would you use that on him so quickly?”

“Your knife, Kuyien,” Mikae said, holding out her hand. “He tried to use a kill tooth at the back of his mouth, but could not bite down hard enough to activate the charm.”

“A kill tooth?” Aesa said, brow furrowed. “An amateur thief would not think to have such a tool or to use it.”

Not such an amateur as they had thought then, Kuyien understood. She pulled her knife from her boot and handed it over to Mikae.

“Now breathe,” Mikae told the thief, allowing him to take in gasp of air before she took the knife to his mouth and cut the tooth from his jaw with little fanfare. Hiccups and strangled breaths were all that could be heard from a throat that was dying to scream in a body that no longer did the bidding of its former master. As soon as the work was done she tossed the tooth through the air to Nira and then got to her own feet, stepping back so that Aesalyae could kneel down and assess the damage.

No one ventured to insist Aesa should not heal him, although the look on Mikae’s face made her opinion obvious.

The body fell completely limp, eyes rolling back in unconsciousness before he had finished. Aesalyae picked him up easily and slung him over his shoulder. “Return to camp, if you please,” he said to them. They knew it was not a request.

 

Ψ Ψ Ψ

 

“ _And so the lady fair whispered hotly in my ear_

_‘Inhale soft for mine breath you take when you press near._

_Take heart not for granted ‘til the last note fades at night_

_Play a song as I play your strings ‘til the dawn’s light…’”_

 

Kuyien felt the throbbing behind her own eyes at the mysting emotions around them, but she did as she oft did and made light of it. She went through their supplies, looking for the jerky she had packed for snacking on their journey, all the while singing a song she knew Mikaelhien despised for its less than pure content. But she received no demands to stop or even a roll of the eyes as she expected. So sang on she did and when she finished she sat and chewed at her prize, tearing into the dried meat with gusto and trepidation.

Of course the strained peace that had fallen over their camp since Aesalyae had taken the thief into the tent could not last. Mikae was strung as tight as a bow string made from a golden hind. Nira was stalking the edges of the campsite as if she were waiting for something to strike—or perhaps waiting to strike herself. And soon enough, strike she did.

“How is it that within mere minutes you managed to damage the very thief we sought to capture to the point he may not be able to tell us any of what we need to know?” she asked from where she stood near a spindly young tree.

Mikaelhien did not bother to look up at her from where she sat by the fire pit she had prepared for their evening meal. “One could ask how you managed to drag him for so long and yet not bother to check him thoroughly, but it would be impolite to accuse one of such lackadaisical handling.”

“Does that include Kuyien, as well?” Nira asked. “As there were two of us who caught and returned with him, not one.”

“Why would it include Kuyien when it does not include _you_?” she replied, barely an inflection in her tone. “As I said, it would be impolite to ask such a thing.”

“When have you ever worried about what may be called impolite?” Nira scoffed. “If you have something to say, then say it straight.”

Mikaelhien stood, turning to face Nira directly. Kuyien stood as well, fingers sliding down the length of the chain dangling from her waist. “Truly, the two of you could have something less biting to speak about?” she said. “He’s not dead. Aesa will heal him enough for our purposes, and a kill tooth is only noticeable if you have the sight to see one. A skill neither of us have. Don’t make more of it than it needs to be. We’ll get our information.”

The look Nira gave her let her know somehow she had miss-stepped. “Of course you would say it’s nothing to be accused of dereliction of our duties by _her_ of all people.”

“That’s not what she said—”

“Let Na’Lilhae make her own defense—”

“I have no need to defend anything,” Mikaelhien cut in, stepping up to her. Nira may not have been as tall as Kuyien herself, but the difference in height was still noticeable. Not enough to deter someone like Mikae, but enough that the sight would be far more humorous under different circumstances.

Perhaps not the thought Kuyien should have been having at that moment, but it was there nonetheless. No one else was to know about it.

“Settle down, the both of you,” she tried again. Neither seemed to care to acknowledge she had spoken at all. Why should she expect this to be any different than it had ever been?

 “Perhaps if you hadn’t pushed upon him so quickly he wouldn’t have felt the need to use the tooth,” Nira said.

“Had I not pushed, we never would have known about it,” Mikaelhien replied.

“You could have found it in another way that didn’t set us back potentially hours on our deadline,” Nira threw back. “The oh-so-precious time limit you were so set on adhering to and you the one to threaten it. And you imply one may think _us_ lackadaisical, but at least we did not jeopardize the mission.”

That remark seemed to have done its job, the humid air of the early summer evening spiking to a warmth that was unmistakably unnatural. Kuyien didn’t hesitate to let the chains flow then, slithering down her hands like snakes to wrap around one ankle each of her fellow warriors, shocking them with the cold as she let what little elemental control she had turn them to icy bonds. There was a hiss of steam from the chain around Mikaelhien’s leg, which seemed to be enough to pull them both from their stare down.

“Ack! That’s freezing, Kuyi!” Nira jerked back, but the chain held firm until she chose to loosen it.

“Well, it seemed the two of you needed a bit to cool your own hot heads,” she said, but her eyes stayed on Mikaelhien. “I cannot believe I must be the one to press for more professional behavior.”

Nira’s shoulders dropped a bit, stepping back and away from the potential confrontation that had been diverted. Mikaelhien stayed where she stood, but her fists were gone, fingers open and palms pressed slightly against her thighs. The air cooled enough that Kuyien almost felt a chill against her skin.

“This company is always as compatible as firecats and waterhounds,” Nira said. “Effective we may be, but too many assertive minds do not breed a civil union.”

“But isn’t effectiveness the priority of a company?” Kuyien said with a teasing smile. “Besides, there are few others I’d choose to ride with us when given the choice.”

“So you chose me for this mission?” Nira gave a soft, exasperated laugh. One Kuyien was well acquainted with. “I should not be surprised this whole ordeal is your fault from the start.”

“Now I would not say that—” Kuyien started, but stopped when the chain in her hand was pulled by Mikaelhien’s tug. Dark eyes stared at her and Kuyien was paused, as if momentarily frozen in the moment as she tried to read them and what that look meant. It was there and gone in that breath, too quick and too slow, for her to read, but then she realized she had not yet taken the chain from around Mikae’s leg as she had Nira’s. Instead, the chain had wound itself further up that dark clad calf and was slinking along a muscled thigh.

“Oh, dear, Mikaelhien,” she said instead. “It seems my chains are reluctant to be parted from you.”

The expression she saw now was one she was vastly more familiar with.

“Loose and careless in their touch,” Mikaelhien said, taking the time to remove the chain herself as Kuyien did not try to stop her. “That sounds familiar enough to me.” A jab meant to gain a reaction, but Kuyien knew better than to take it to heart.

Before she had the chance to parry back, the flap of the tent opened and Aesalyae poked his head out. “He’s awake,” he told them. “We’ll not waste any more time in waiting for other tricks he may have up his sleeve. Mikaelhien, if you please.”

Mikaelhien dropped the end of the chain she held to the ground with a soft thud and walked toward the tent. She tilted her head briefly and in the light of the late afternoon Kuyien could see her glancing back at her briefly before she ducked her head to enter the shadows under Aesa’s arm. He then looked back at the two of his company still waiting outside and then gave them a half smile from the corner of his mouth.

“It shouldn’t be long now,” he told them before disappearing back beneath the dark brown tarp of the door flap.

The silence left behind lasted only as long as it took Nira to step beside her and give a tug to the braid trailing down her back. “You need to get a hold of your lady,” she told her. “That volcano is bound to erupt with no vents to soothe the pressure.”

Kuyien did not disagree. She wasn’t the first person to speak of it to Kuyien. For weeks now this had been building and others had broached their…concerns. Others who would never seek to approach Mikaelhien herself. Why bother when the less volatile of them would take the brunt of the intervention in their stead?

But with Nira she felt the words more true. Nira who Mikaehien had never gotten along with and always found some way to scrape along the coals when they worked together. Not that Nira ever seemed affected by the heat of her contempt.

“Not even vents can stave off an eruption pushed that close to the surface,” Kuyien sighed. “All that can be done is work to direct the flow and the debris when it comes.”

 “We both know what becomes of those who worry too much for the sake of the volcano and not the danger of its nature,” Nira warned. Kuyien didn’t disagree with her then, either.

But it could wait. It would have to wait. No need to force an eruption in an effort to prevent a worse one from happening. There would be time yet. After the mission, surely she would make the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewrote this chapter far too many times and still not perfectly happy, but it's done and gives me things set up for later. Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

  

CHAPTER 5

 

Mikaelhien walked through the small set of shops that made up the Istaeli marketplace. A place for fresh local produce and items it was simpler to get close to home rather than traveling to the Market of the Inner Ring. Nearly two weeks since her last mission—since they had returned with the thief and she had done her best to avoid Kuyien and her questions—and a routine was emerging in her life.

She had kept her word to her mother and made sure to return home early in the afternoon, before the sun had moved far enough to the west to be considered in a real descent. She bathed every day as her mother expected of her, meaning that she had to get up earlier every morn to ensure that the silo was full and unclogged. She had spent more coin on water in the last three days than she had in the last three months, it seemed.

Suffocating, but it kept her mother pleased.

Today, as if to reward her for her conscientious behavior, her mother had tasked her with picking up a special cake she had requested of the bakery the day previous. Of course she couldn’t possibly take the time to make it herself. She was still occupied with the preparations for the wedding and would not invite any helping hands to the task that were not her own, or Mikaelhien’s, until she felt it timely to do so. And she knew very well that Mikaelhien was a proficient cook when it came to meals, but not someone who was skilled in baked goods. Any bread she made was better fit to build a home rather than fill the stomach.

She studiously ignored all the stares she was gaining, or the patches of silence amidst the pleasant, easy chatter that filled the air around her. The engagement had been revealed weeks ago and yet they still seemed so surprised by the sight of her.

She opened the door to the bakery, soft as ever, and the bell above the door remained unmoved. She could hear two voices deeper into the thick, sweet smelling building, laughter muffled by the door separating the shop from the kitchen. They hadn’t heard her. Mikaelhien stood on her tip-toes, reaching up to tap the bell lightly with her fingers so the announcing _bah-riiing_ would sing out. Immediately the voices stopped. The small latched window in the door slid open, a familiar face greeted her with surprise and then enthusiasm.

“Good tidings this is, sister-to-be!” Taemani greeted, pushing the door open. He was well-kept for a baker--less so for a Chief, even a short-lived one--with his ebony hair pulled back into a neat bun, peachy face blotchy from the heat of the ovens--although there was flour and what she thought was likely some kind of fruit filling smeared on the right breast of his apron. “It is a boon to see you today. Are you here for your mother’s cake? I’m glad I could be of assistance by making it for her.”

Of course, her mother would have phrased it as help she would appreciate from her future family, for their bloodlines would be one soon, and shouldn’t they know they can call upon one another when in need?

“Fair noon to you, Lord Taemani,” she bowed her head lightly to him, bringing her fingers to her lips. “Yes, my mother is looking forward to it, yet I left without asking her the price. I believe I’ve brought--”

Taemani cut her off with a laugh. “Price? Why, we are family, Mikaelhien!” he told her. “What brother would I be to charge you for food?”

“One running a bakery,” she responded, though she lightly bit the inside of her cheek after the words left her mouth. She could hear her mother even now. _Still your tongue, child._

Taemani only laughed and then turned his head, calling out into the kitchen. “Urae, bring the cake, my doe. I’ll get the basket ready.”

How could such a hearty and relaxed man be of the same family as Faoru Na’Doroun? It was a mystery to her. And yet, there in lied the reason that Faoru was to become clan Chief and Taemani was content to stay a baker.

A stray strand of hair fell into her face and Mikaelhien brushed it back into place with her fingers just as the kitchen door opened again, revealing the hearty, glowing figure that was Uraelhien Na’Raelani, the woman who should have been the next Chieftess of the clan. Her hair was pulled back so tight in its bun that it stretched the skin of her face at the edges, but her smile was always welcoming, almost challenging. Uraelhien was an open book, not out of weakness, but out of lack of fear. No warrior she may be, but there were few that could strike terror into the heart of Uraelhien. Mikaelhien respected that boldness in someone who had no training beyond the bare minimum expected of all children within their clan to learn.

Perhaps it was that she reminded her so much of Kuyien, despite the fact they looked so completely unlike one another.

“Mikaelhien, dear, good noon to you,” Uraelhien bowed her head casually and brought the tray with the cake to the counter.

“Good noon, Uraelhien,” Mikaelhien bowed her head in return. Taemani had already collected one of his returnable baskets from behind the counter and then took the cake from her to set inside of it. He gave his wife a brief nuzzle on the cheek in gratitude and then waved a hand toward Mikaelhien.

“Urae, she truly intended to pay for this cake, can you imagine?” he said. “As if I would ever let my sister-to-be pay for something I made with love and care for her.”

Uraelhien sighed and shook her head at his behavior. Mikaelhien could empathize with her plight. “Because she’s an honorable woman who pays for services done for her, you cotton willow of a man,” she told him. “It’s rude to turn away someone’s money that way.”

“Rude? No more rude than making such an offer first! Now, I’m sure dear Mikaelhien didn’t intend it in that way, but it strikes me to the core,” he even brought his fingers up to his chest, as if pressing them into his heart.

“Must you do this when she clearly is short on time? She must be on her way somewhere,” Uraelhien remarked. “Give her the cake and let her be on her way. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your brevity more than your dramatizing.”

“Oh, my doe, do be kind,” he pleaded, but it was clear he was not injured by her words.

“I am kind as I am able,” she told him, unmoved. She then reached around him to grasp the handle of the basket it. Walking around the counter, she brought it right to Mikaelhien and held it out to her. “Here. Ease his heart for today and don’t insist on giving him payment. Spare me from having to console him if not for his own sake.”

Mikaelhien smiled politely, gave a bow of her head, accepting the basket and stepping back away from Uraelhien. She was calm and unthreatening, yet Mikaelhien still felt on edge. As if an attack was coming, only she was being lured into complacency before the strike. The sense of warning was building so steadily in her like an itch spreading across her skin. Waiting for the trap to spring.

“You both are too kind,” she said. “I’ll be sure to inform my mother. Good tidings to you both.”

She turned to leave just as Taemani called out to her, but she didn’t take the time to stop and look at him directly. “I am truly regretful, but Lady Uraelhien is right, I must go.”

“But I would truly enjoy just another moment to--”

“Taemani, let the young woman go in peace,” Uraelhien interjected, and Mikaelhien could hear the sound of a hand being slapped against the smoothed stone counter top. That silenced his words and Mikaelhien thought it meant she would be out of the bakery and away from them both with no further delay, leaving before whatever trouble she felt could find her.

Just as she opened the door to the bakery she saw him standing there on the entrance mat, hand pulling back from what she assumed was his intention to push the door. He stared at her in surprise, eyes moving over her in that same, assessing way that rubbed against her like broken bones grinding in opposition.

The length of time it took him to react only made the itching beneath her skin worse. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her dressed this way before. Her normally pale, sandy skin was glossed with rose and honey powder and her hair held with combs and ribbons that curled around her head like vines to make it seem longer, fuller. The gown she had worn to their engagement proposal had been far more luxurious and difficult to walk in than the simple satin and lace of that which she wore now. At least this one didn’t drag across the ground.

“Oh, Faoru, brother, how good of you to come so unexpectedly.” Taemani would never have passed the trials for being a warrior if he could lie as poorly as that.

“Lady Mikaelhien,” Faoru finally greeted with a bow of his head, direct as ever. “Fair noon to you.”

She stared back at him, frozen in the moment before forcing herself to greet him in return. “Good tidings, Lord Faoru,” she said. Stepping to the side, she held the door and made room for him to enter the shop. “Apologies to you, sir, for hindering your way. I should be returning home.”

He paused, hand coming up to hold onto the door above where hers kept it ajar. “Stay your departure, if you would,” he requested but it did not sound like a request. “We last spoke at the clan meeting some days ago.”

She didn’t understand what he was attempting to say. Speaking twice to one another in the same week was more than was usual for them. Did he expect that to become their new normal now that they were…formally committed to their formal commitment? It was not as if the engagement required him to devote time to her. They weren’t married yet.

“Yes, I do remember it,” she said instead, for lack of anything else to say that wouldn’t sound wholly dismissive. “Even so, my mother is expecting my swift return.”

She would rather not be in his presence until she had no recourse but to be in it, so she could only hope he wouldn’t press her. Long enough had she spent in this forsaken gown with these sharp, uncomfortable combs holding her hair up away from her face as her mother had directed.

_Better to show your face than look as if you are hiding behind a veil._

“It is but a moment of your time,” he countered. “I doubt Lady Lilhae would suffer for the delay.”

No. On the contrary, her mother would be elated. Better chance to fully focus his attentions on her and carve his choice into stone. Not that there was any other option for him now. Faoru Na’Doroun was not a man who changed his mind easily. He had chosen her, for all the care and thought it had appeared that he had done so, and thus for him there was only her.

Unless someone else could convince him otherwise. Unless someone else would take up the cause to prove how valuable she was to their kingdom as a warrior and not a soft, tamed housewife. Someone like…

“I do have a question, if you would honor me with your thoughts,” Mikaelhien said.

His brow raised at the change in topic, but he did not speak, leaving the air open for her to continue. Taemani seemed ready to speak out of the corner of her eye, but Uraelhien took his arm and pulled him back into the kitchen with nothing else save a look. Soon it was just the two of them, standing within the doorway of the shop. Even the Istaeli who had been walking by outside seemed to have vanished. They were alone.

“We must do what is best for the good of our people,” she went on. “That is the Path of Istaeli, to always have the heart of our people in our steps no matter the road one takes. Do you believe that this union will push us along that Path?”

His head tilted, brow furrowed lightly, mouth stiff and stern. “All paths are the Path if one is true to the Istaeli,” he said. “Our union will benefit our people for the future, providing stability and strong bloodlines for generations to come.”

“Yet is that enough?” she asked, words less soft than she had intended. “Is it only enough to provide strength in the present and bloodlines to mature? Are there not other ways to give stability and a future to our people?”

“You speak in too much obscurity, milady,” Faoru told her.

“I speak only seeking your honesty, milord,” she replied. “Have you not wondered if this path is the only path? Is not seeking the righteous path also the way of the Istaeli?”

“A path of sacrifice is always a righteous one,” he responded, “but you need not see all things as sacrifice. Is that how you view the coming union?”

“No,” she said it stiffly, for it was not the truth and yet not a lie. It was not a sacrifice to be dutiful and loyal to your clan. Yet. “Only it has not been so long since our union was decided. I did not expect you to agree.”

She was not sure whose surprise was greater, Faoru’s at her words, or her own at his. “Who else would I have chosen?” he asked. “No more suitable woman in our clan was there for me to see. Our bloodlines are strong but distant enough and you are both unwed and unattached to anyone else within the clan.”

_Unattached?_

“So you chose me because I have no other suitors within our clan?” she snapped.

“I chose you because it would be no sacrifice to bind myself to you.”

“You barely know me.”

“Anyone with eyes and ears to know anything in this Capital knows of Mikaelhien Na’Lilhae of the Warrior Branch.”

Mikaelhien finally looked directly into his eyes instead of off to the side as she always did when speaking to someone of a higher station than her own. They were dark as night as was custom of the Istaeli; intense, but honest. Had it all been an act then? If he truly knew her, of her, why had he been so dismissive and uninterested during the proposal meeting? Why had he acted as if this was nothing, that the choice they were making was as unimportant as selecting what tea to drink in the morning? To ensure _he_ would make no sacrifice of his own in choosing a wife? For it was not her choice, not her voice, that mattered in the end…was it?

“Thank you, milord,” she said, tone softening and body relaxing, as if it was a compliment he had given her. “You are more than kind to indulge my inquiries. Please, if you would, honor my home with your presence at your earliest convenience. I am sure my mother would be happy to have you.”

With that she ducked under his arm, lifting the gown enough that she could make larger steps out of the shop before settling it once more around her. She walked away, basket draped over her arm, steps assured as they always were. She could feel the eyes that followed her down the road, but she did not turn back. She kept her hand pressed against the skirt of her gown as casually as possible, hiding the deep gouges she had dug into it during their conversation.

 

Ψ Ψ Ψ

 

She sat on the branch not unlike she would a bench, one leg bent and foot flat while the other dangled over the edge. Mikaelhien sat with her back pressed against the trunk of the wide tree that blocked out the moonlight from settling on the field around it. It was almost a full moon, the gibbous large enough that the craters and swirls on the surface were visible even through the thin layer of cloud that trailed across the sky.

Mikae had been waiting for over two hours, looking relaxed and unconcerned should any have come across her. She had sent the message as she had been instructed, in a way that few outside of the Hanyul Clan could manage. It would mask her intentions and the sender of said message from anyone who hadn’t been given leave to know. Not that she had risked putting her name or seal to it. This was not a missive that she wanted connected to her. They would know who the sender was.

She heard the flapping of wings and the barely audible whistle of a bird calling out. She responded in kind and the little ebony-winged bird swooped gracefully through the heavy leaf-covered boughs of the tree to land on her knee. It chirped and whistled after landing, wings splayed out before it bowed then hopped in a twirl, never once losing its balance. On its leg was a small scroll, tied with black string.

Mikaelhien let the familiar heat build in her eyes as she stared at the little bird, the world gaining sharper focus even as all the living objects around her began to glow. The bird’s eyes were covered in the same red shadows she knew so well. She carefully held out her hands to the bird, which hopped eagerly onto her palm and cooed at her. She stroked its head softly with her fingers.

She used one hand to detach the scroll and tucked it in curve behind her knee, held there by its bent position. “My thanks, little blackbird,” she said, reaching out, using her thoughts and will with intent.

It didn’t take much, although more than one might expect considering it was but a bird, for the shift to begin, the shadows and glow of the bird’s eyes rippling from red to its expected white-blue. The bird froze for a moment before fluttering its wings in surprise. It all but squawked before jumping from her hand and flying off to land on a branch some ways above her. One needn’t know birds to recognize the look it gave her was one of pure accusation and condemnation. Mikae counted herself lucky that he hadn’t proceeded to relieve himself right above her head.

“You’ll forgive me,” she said, not bothered at all by the behavior. Blinking her eyes, the world around her returned to as it should be, the heat and colors fading from her vision as her myst settled into its dormant state.

She grabbed the scroll and rolled it open, the breath caught in her throat. Reading over the message written there she couldn’t help but laugh softly, a kind of hysteria flooding her. This was it. This was the chance she had been hoping for, and yet it was not her salvation. She may have just damned herself even still.

Not that knowing the consequences would change her decision. The Path of the Istaeli was one of sacrifice, but at least in this what she gave up would be of her own choice.

 

 

Ψ Ψ Ψ

 

_“This is not a task we could ask of anyone else. You are the only one who is both trustworthy enough and skilled enough to ensure success.”_

_“I understand, milord Councilman, yet…”_

_“Oh yes, I quite understand your hesitance. Should you agree, no one could know. Even the king himself would disavow you if pressed.”_

_“I fail to see what benefits you are offering me that I could not gain with another benefactor. Councilwoman Raezul and Councilman Waelyn would vouch for my value among the Legion ranks.”_

_“You’ll find anyone within the council more reluctant to speak for you than you might assume, Na’Lilhae. Have you not realized just the effort your mother has put forth to ensure this proposal?”_

_“My mother? You mean she has been…”_

_“She is far more persuasive than you as well. Many remember your father and what occurred upon his death. To repay their failure, they will all give in to whatever she wishes of them in this matter.”_

_“Except you.”_

_“I have more at stake than a mere blood debt to one clan woman, child. The king has trusted me to see this done for the good of our entire kingdom. He is placing his faith in **you** to assist him as the true Warrior of Paetoran that you are. I see no reason not to champion you for that and more besides.”_

_“…I will consider your words deeply.”_

_“That is all I ask for now, Na’Lilhae. My Hand will instruct you in how to deliver your message.”_

_“…Yes, whether I accept this task or not, you will receive one nonetheless.”_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know if the gods favor me or mock me,” Kuyien bemoaned, finally taking the time to wring as much of the water from her hair as possible. 
> 
> “Next time, don’t give them either option,” Sylvae said curtly.

 

CHAPTER 6

 

“Daenauli, of course.”

“Daenauli? But it may as well still be winter there. The ice has thawed only just.”

“Aye, but the hot springs would certainly give me a flush I can enjoy. I’d rather brave their sodden slopes if in return I can traverse the steam pools of the Caverns. Their Healers’ touch is certainly of the best on Iruth.”

“Nothing would entice me to travel so far up into the mountains of Daenauli of all places until late summer at the earliest.”

“You’ve never even tested the waters before, Bandar.”

“Seems perhaps you’ve sipped their wells far too often, Kuyien.”

“Come now, Ban-zi, you know Kuyi never turns down the luxury of a hot soak. I’d be thrown if our tenement lord has not withheld extra fees for overusing the heating stones in the baths.”

“A shocking turn of betrayal by my own neighbor. I would have thought us closer than that.”

 “Mayhap so before I was left to cold showers for five days in a row because you burned out the stones and they needed to be replaced.”

“And pay for those replacements I certainly did, Sylvae. You can’t hold such a grudge against me two years after. It wasn’t my fault that it took so long for Gryga to have them installed. You know he spent the first four days scheming a way to put but a fifth of that money to the stones and keep the rest for himself.”

“Hah. All that proves is that he definitely charges you more, just should such a case occur again. Gryga is not known for his softness when it comes to money.”

“Do hush, Bandar.”

“There you have it, Ban-zi. She definitely pays more.”

“Baa to both of you.”

Their horses clip-clopped easily down the road, seemingly unaffected by the unnatural heatwave that had overtaken the region the past few days, despite their playful whining. It was summer, yes, but still only the beginnings of it, while this temperature and humidity rarely struck before the high summer. Still, it would suit their purpose, for the nights were also warmer and thus allowed them to travel through them as needed rather than having to bed down each night. They would make good time and possibly even complete the mission ahead of schedule, if things continued favorably.

Mikaelhien’s three companions had been bantering back and forth for some time now, keeping the conversation light and uncomplicated. Easy to left drift in the peripheral of her attention. They did not wear the uniforms of the Warrior Branch, or even markers of their clans as they traveled down a road most often used by civilians. They were simple travelers, friends on their way to survey a new property as a favor to one of their fathers. Dressed in clothes that breathed wealth, but of the business class. It would allow them to travel from Paetoran to Murieba with little notice from anyone more nefarious than the potential highway brigand.

As they had been tasked with also drawing out a group of thieves that had been attacking small groups moving along this road, it would only make it all the easier for them if one such person did take an interest in them.

Things would change greatly once they left the road for the outpost and moved forth as Aex Company of Paetoran, but until then, they could pretend as if there were no worries. They were friends with little in the way of responsibilities or concerns that they could flaunt themselves so carelessly along a road becoming increasingly known for ambushes. It was a solid cover, even if Mikaelhien herself never would have chosen it. Kuyien did have good ideas at times for this sort of thing.

“Mikae-zi?”

She pulled herself from her thoughts to raise an eyebrow at Sylvae from where her horse calmly strode to the left of her. “Must you call me that?” she asked. “We are long past our childhoods.”

“Nay, _I_ am long past my childhood,” Sylvae said. “You’ve barely left yours, no matter what they tell you in that overrated school that I was spared from attending.”

Even though she couldn’t see all of Kuyien’s face, Mikae could feel the way she rolled her eyes about to the sky. “Saa, saa,” she cut off her diatribe before it could gain momentum. “We know the story well, Lady Sylvae. How lucky for us that Bandar’s father requested you join us for this playdate when you should be in your rocking swing weaving baskets.”

Bandar did not turn around to join into the teasing, but neither did he bother to withhold the snort that escaped him. Sylvae was indeed almost seventeen years older than they, and had not attended the Antillia Academy for her training to be a legionnaire. They hadn’t allowed female students to take Warrior courses then, and instead she had been training to be a non-combative Healer. The spells and potions of a trained Healer were not as immediate as the natural skill of one such as Asaelyae, but they were just as necessary. When the makeshift hospital she had been assigned to on the frontlines had been attacked directly, Sylvae had more than proven her skills as an able fighter in protecting her injured patients. They had needed every abled-bodied person on the fighting front that they could spare at the time. A warrior who could heal herself and her companions? A boon indeed. It had not taken long for her to be relisted into the Infantry branch for training.

Sylvae swiftly brought down her retribution for the dismissive interruption, pulling her ration’s pouch from her side and aiming a well-sized nut at the back of Kuyien’s head. Hard. But Kuyien ducked as she sensed the projectile coming, moving to the side to allow it to pass by with a whistle of air. Bandar was not so lucky and took the hit right in his back below his neck.

“Ai… Sylvae, my _father_ requested you leave me in the same condition in which he entrusted me to you!” So well-played was the injury that Mikaelhien wasn’t sure if it was part of his guise of a spoiled son or if he was harmed by it. Kuyien played the part of the concerned friend--a friend who mayhap be more should onlookers inquire--urging her horse alongside his and running her hand over his back.

“Oh you poor, dear,” she cooed at him. “I’ll get her back for you. Just wait.”

“Is it wise to threaten someone so vocally when she can hear all that you say?” Mikaelhien asked, having taken on the role of the stoic, put upon companion. Not a hardship by any means. It was much easier to pretend to be distant when she was allowing her thoughts to wander--never enough to forget their surroundings or their mission, but enough that each attempt at conversation had trailed off from her—and it made it easier to avoid moving too much.

Her horse carried the most of their load as she was the lightest rider of their company. That load just so happened to be their larger weapons and traveling packs, wrapped and disguised to look like cushions and “other luxuries” as might be expected of a pampered maiden unused and unimpressed by traveling without the traditional comforts of a carriage or caravan. It made it easier to appear offended by everything around her and willfully dismissive of the playfulness going on.

Such as the stick that poked her in the side. “Liven your spirits, and let them have their naïve plots of revenge,” Sylvae told her. “A trip with no fathers or _mothers_ to flitter over you, and yet you still manage to have such a sour face, Mikae. I assure you my presence is meant more to pay any fines or compensations, rather than to keep you from having your fun.”

Mikae understood her hidden words perfectly well and responded with her own, “If not for Kuyi’s begging, I wouldn’t even be in this little party to begin with. Mother would never have trusted me so far with so little _protection_.”

Her mother had not been as convinced to give her leave to go on this mission and as with all things this past month, the world bent to her will. It had been a final snag, one last held breath of turmoil. She should have known better than to doubt Kuyien’s special way with words that convinced the Mission Distributions office not to remove her name from the company list. Aex Company had been requested and Aex Company would go. Having already kept Aesalyae in the Capital for scheduled training he gave to the novice healer corps, taking away Mikaelhien would no doubt anger their client--who just so happened to be the High Lord of Murieba--and cut down the veritably large bonus that had been promised for their specific usage. What a waste of opportunity that would be and just to keep one of their best locked in the village? She wasn’t married off yet.

( _“Good for us the High Lord’s nephew enjoys your brief lessons in fire-walking, Mikae, or we’d be out quite the sum.”_ )

Good for them, indeed.

“As if anything could happen on such a simple trip,” Bandar dismissed the mere idea, haughty and too perfectly in character. “Besides, I’m here to ensure nothing befalls my lovely traveling companions.”

Kuyien laughed, blowing a kiss his way before looking back at Mikaelhien with brightness. Golden and full of life. As if this could truly be such a simple excursion of friends. Not as if she was giving her a carefully casual sign with her fingers about the shadows that were following them at a distance within the far tree line to the north of the road. “We are truly in the most secure of hands then, aren’t we Mikae?” Kuyien asked as she silently told her what to look for.

Three fingers. Two tapping her horse’s side, then two fingers crossed tapping. Three suspects, potential two more and a crossbow. She must had spotted the shape. They needed to draw them out more, get a better view of them.

Mikae huffed, lips downturned and the grip on the reins of her horse tightening. “Most secure? If only. Perhaps we should have requested the guard like my mother insisted.”

Bandar sighed back at her. “The only worry we have is you losing all of those pretty trinkets and accessories on the road if you move too much.”

“How could I possibly have gone without them? We’ll be gone for weeks. I have to keep myself looking presentable.”

“Saa, saa,” Sylvae interjected, as if she was trying to keep the peace. “Come now, children. We’ve barely gotten to our first stop, let’s not fall into squabbling now.”

Mikae slowed her horse just enough to trail the rest of her company by some steps. Bandar flung a hand into the air, turning away from her to focus on the road. They were alone on this long stretch before the bend that led to the nearest village, the perfect opportunity for anyone who might want to strike without interference. There were sounds now, close enough that she could hear them in the brush, although she acted more offended by the chastisement than anything, stoically silent.

Perhaps they would be making their move sooner than Mikaelhien had expected. All the better for them.

 

Ψ Ψ Ψ

 

With a sighing laugh, Kuyien finished setting up her sleep pallet for the night and plopped down onto it. Her body stretched and arched, even the tips of her boots extended. “By the gods, how had they stayed on the run for so long?” she asked. “Had all the people they robbed been hapless civilians with no sense of sword training?”

“They are more than disabused of the notion of their skills, now,” Mikaelhien chuckled, rolling her eyes as she pulled a large, ornamental silver-iron jewelry box from the pack it had been hidden in. She tossed it at Kuyien, who caught it easily in one hand. With a flare of mystical energy--golden and tangy on the tongue like the smell of hot metal--it twisted and warped back to into Mikaelhien’s sword, the hilt held deftly in her hand. She tossed it back into the air with a light upswing. Mikae grabbed it in the descent before returning it into the scabbard and setting it beside her own pallet.

It was easy for Kuyien to perform the kraft of the Vaosira, natural transmutation, as few others could. Pushing her own myst into any object and turning it into whatever her mind desired it to become. The uncanny intuition to know whether a tree was hale enough to be turned into wood for building homes or if the metal of a chain could be altered into elaborate jewelry.

“The money you waste buying chains and trinkets of jewelry when you could make your own will never fail to awe,” Mikaelhien sighed.

Her friend did not seem annoyed in the least as she finished fixing a pair of dangling earrings back into small knives she often tucked into hiding on her person. “The thrill of the search for the perfect piece will always outweigh mere frugality,” she replied.

“Come reset my sword, too, Kuyi-zi,” Sylvae called to her.

Kuyien sighed this time in disappointment, fingers running over the blanket of her cot before pushing herself back to her feet. “Coming, coming,” she said. “Anything else I need to return to rights? I already did the cooking supplies and Bandar’s qaesar.”

“ _And_ your chains, don’t forget that,” Sylvae pointed out, holding out the very ornate and intricately designed mirror that had once been her sword so it could be once more.

“Yes, of course, how could I forget?” Kuyi responded, returning the sword to its true form easily before giving it back. “Remind me next time to keep it to only ten or so necklaces. If I try to transmute that many again, feel free to hit me.”

“I will take that offer.”

Footsteps barely shook the wooden platform as Bandar leaped back onto it from the ground. “Horses secure,” he told them. “Gave them their food, but they could use a bit of brushing before we move on. Mayhap let them bathe in the shallower side of the river in the morn when we break.”

“Sound plan,” Mikae agreed. “They deserve some refreshment after five days on the road.”

“You made sure to give Etrygan his apples,” Kuyien spoke up from where she was once more reposing on her pallet.

“Saa, saa, of course I did. Nearly bit my fingers off getting to it, he did,” Bandar told her. “You should teach your horse to be a bit gentler to those who aren’t you and Mikaelhien.”

“Then he wouldn’t be _my_ horse, would he?” Kuyien reasoned. “He’d let just anyone ride him. Why encourage poor loyalty?”

Sylvae chuckled and finished setting up her own pallet before getting to her feet. “So whose turn was it to make dinner tonight?”

“I recall Ku--”

“Bandar,” Mikaelhien replied just as he did, cutting off his attempts to avoid the shared duty. Kuyien held up her hand in a particularly rude gesture before pointing in Bandar’s direction, not even bothering to open her eyes.

“Is that anyway to behave toward your fellow companions?” Bandar asked, dramatically scandalized.

“Perhaps if you were fairer of face I would mean it, too,” Kuyien answered. “Alas, that nose lacks any sort of complement for it.”

“You spawn of a raekmiel,” he kicked her foot as he walked by to the pack of cooking utensils and what was left of their communal rations. He moved over to the stone fire pit built into the platforms center--the only place where it could be and not unevenly weigh down the entire structure—and started setting up to make a quick stew. “How is it I became charged with the horses and with preparing the meal?”

“That would be because you took your time this morn in readying yourself and we took down the camp on our own,” Kuyien said. “Perhaps if you had not been so busy with yourself in han--”

“Kuyien,” Mikaelhien said with some exasperation.

This was one of the reasons she preferred not taking missions with Bandar Na’Byndarian. He and Kuyien couldn’t seem to avoid finding a way to pass vulgar banter and insults back and forth. It was as if they had never gotten over their final year of the Academy when Bandar had spent weeks pining for her and she’d turned him down as brutally as possible. Unlike many other interested suitors, he hadn’t been crushed before he’d finally moved on--Bandar never was no matter how many times such rejections occurred--and Kuyien had taken it as an invitation to keep this childish non-fight going between them. Not that Bandar seemed averse to it either.

Putting up with them was surely a sacrifice required for taking this mission. Not the worst of them, but inconveniencing nonetheless.

Thankfully, her name alone was enough to calm Kuyien’s tongue. She rolled over onto her side, clinking two of her chains together as she began to hum a common traveling tune. One of them slithered into action, sliding its way over her blanket and crossing the meager distance of wooden planks to reach Mikaelhien’s own. It danced and writhed, putting on a lovely little production that kept her suitably occupied. She told herself that the pull at the corners of her mouth wasn’t smiling and as no one commented on it--particularly not Kuyien herself--it was easier to insist it must be true.

Smiling was the last thing she should have been doing.

Who could smile when they knew that at any moment they would have to perform a task they may never be forgiven for?

She reached out, hesitant for a moment before letting her fingers touch the dancing chains. She didn’t flinch from the initial shock she always felt when in contact with Kuyien’s myst, the burst of molten recognition quickly soothed over by warm familiarity and compatibility. Their mysts had always reacted like so, their two brands of spirit and natural mystkraft complementing in such a contrasting way.

Capable of attracting and repelling in the same moment.

The chain reacted easily, wrapping itself up around her hand, over her wrist and then her arm, moving steadily toward her face. There it rubbed itself against her cheek, like a cat seeking attention. She allowed it to ruffle her hair before rippling and writhing its way back away from her body to its owner. Kuyien was smirking but her eyes remained closed, arm beneath her head like a pillow.

The moment was broken with Bandar’s voice from beside the fire pit and the chains fell dormant in a spiral between their pallets. The pot was already hot and whatever type of stew he had made with their salted meats and the produce found in the outpost cache sent a pleasant aroma around the wall-less structure. The cloaking spell and protection seals were all that kept them from being detected by the scent alone.

“Hopefully those clouds that are rolling in from the west won’t get us too wet tonight,” he commented, eyeing up at the first wisps of them as they trailed over the smoke-hole in the roof. “If not, we may have a problem come morn.”

“Sylvae, your impression?” Mikaelhien called out to her, as she was the one who would know best about that sort of thing. The older woman pushed herself up and easily swung herself from the platform’s edge onto the roof with a soft thud. She returned soon enough, the pale lavender smoke of her myst fading around her with the soft breeze.

“Still does not appear to be anything more than a sprinkle or two in the making,” she explained. “The winds aren’t picking up more speed and the clouds aren’t so heavy enough for concern. The canopy is thinner here by the river so we’ll probably feel more of it than if we’d kept to the forest road.”

Kuyien shrugged her shoulder on the ground, rolling onto her back and staring into the roof of the outpost. “Hopefully those sprinkles will assist in cooling this suffocating humidity,” she joked. “I might throw myself into the river if it doesn’t ease its oppression of us soon.”

“From your lips to the gods’ ears,” Bandar agreed.

 

Ψ Ψ Ψ

 

“If only the gods hadn’t listened so well,” Mikaelhien groused.

The sudden heavy downpour that struck in the late hours of the night trapped them tightly within the confines of the outpost. Thunder and lightning cracked through the sky bright enough that it was almost blinding when it woke her from her half-dozing state. Sylvae appeared both confused and offended by the weather turning against her predictions, but they hadn’t the time to tease her about her uncommon inaccuracy.

They hurried to pull down the wooden-platted walls rolled up into the roof of the outpost and secure the hooks into the ground to block out most of the rain. They refrained from turning on the charmed lanterns until the water was kept out, lest they drown them into uselessness. Bandar returned to the ground to release the horses so as to protect them from any potential flooding. So close to the river, this early in the season, they could never be too cautious. At least all four were more than trained enough to seek out the safe caverns closer to the mountain range and return when the weather cleared.

Kuyien pushed her already drenched hair back away from her face as she closed off the fire pit and then the smoke-hole above it. She looked not unlike a cat drenched to the bone, displeased at the world, and Mikaelhien herself felt no better. Thankfully she had far less hair to contend with-- _again, practicality over indulgence,_ she thought--but hadn’t brought a single tie in which to pull the strands back and out of her own face. It fell in thick wet locks, sticking to her sweaty skin and neck. She almost wished for the uncomfortable pins she’d worn as part of her disguise that were shoved in her pack in the storage compartment beneath their feet.

“I don’t know if the gods favor me or mock me,” Kuyien bemoaned, finally taking the time to wring as much of the water from her hair as possible. She pulled the long tail from behind her, darker than blood on blade against her cool bronze shoulders and twisted it several times to squeeze the excess out.

“Next time, don’t give them either option,” Sylvae said curtly. She pushed her own chestnut strands back and then tightly wrapped them into a top bun just as Bandar stepped into the doorway.

“Horses are sent off and hopefully they won’t come back until the storm has--”

His body jerked forward into the darkness of the room. His hand flew up to his shoulder. The lightning flashed outside and the brightness of it gleamed off of the dark metal arrowhead sticking out of Bandar’s chest to the right. A cry came out of his mouth that could barely be heard over the thunder that followed and he dropped to his knees, rolling away from the doorway as quickly as possible. There was the sound of a crack as the arrow’s fletching broke off with his movement, but they heard not another cry of pain from him.

Sylvae moved immediately, slinking around the side of the room out of the view of the doorway as quickly as possible. Mikaelhien pulled her sword from its sheath and Kuyien grabbed her chains from the ground. They clanked and rattled from the quick movements, both of them trying to see out beyond the torrents of rain sleeting off the angled roof of the outpost like waterfalls. The world was dark and their enemy unseen in its shadows.

“It had to have come from the north, mayhap even across the river,” Mikaelhien surmised, from the position of the door and the angle in which Bandar was struck.

“Still alive, are you, Ban-zi?” Kuyien called out, just enough to be heard over the storm.

“Had worse, indeed,” he grunted as Sylvae assessed the wound with her fingers. “Remember the time when I almost lost my hand and a tooth? Thankfully they saved both, the tooth especially.”

“Stop moving or your whole arm may be the thing that cannot be saved,” Sylvae warned him even as she pulled the arrow the rest of the way through. She tossed it to the ground and moved quickly to get her hands inside his vest and shirt, pressing some healing salve against the wound on both sides. With a burst of her energy it should be enough to stave off the bleeding and infection.

If they had any luck the arrow wouldn’t poisoned.

“How can they see us? Did the storm kill the cloaking spell?”

“Does it matter Kuyien?” Mikaelhien asked. “What is important is we know they can, now--”

There were footsteps, barely audible in the storm, but just enough pressure to set Kuyien on edge as she turned her gaze up to the roof of the platform. Stillness overtook them, eyes trained above them. Mikaelhien’s grip on her sword was so tight she might never remove it from her grasp.

Was this it? Was this the sign? She had no way of knowing when a strike was made against her companion and it did not seem like it was merely a strike meant to warn. No, whoever had released that arrow knew what they were doing. Had Bandar not shifted to the left, it would have struck his heart.

Did someone else discover her mission and seek to stop her?

She had no more time to consider the possibility as the iron cap of the smoke-hole was ripped away and a dark cylinder was dropped down into the firepit with a heavy, clanking thud. Mikaelhien drew the heat to her eyes, letting them flair as she looked over the item and the grey-blue myst bleeding from it. Suddenly there was a ticking sound and she realized exactly was it was.

“We have to get out _now!_ ” Kuyien yelled, having come to the same conclusion.

Sylvae wasted no time, drawing myst into her fist and punched a hole into the wooden planks beneath her and Bandar, sending them dropping immediately toward the lower level of the outpost. The planks near Mikaelhien popped up from the floor, warping in golden myst into a large, rounded door-like structure just as the ticking turned into a quick clicking. They fell easily through the opening created, Mikae’s arms around Kuyien’s waist to keep them close as the Vaosira clung to the makeshift shield.

The bomb exploded, the force of the small tornado locked inside ripping up the entire upper level, sending wooden shards and metal shrapnel everywhere. It swung them around in its winds, flinging them toward the river away from the tree line. Mikaelhien tried to hold on as best she could, but the force of the shield hitting the ground, digging into the thick mud, sent it splintering along toward the river’s edge and both of them sprawling haphazardly with it.

The world went black for one moment. Or perhaps more than one. She could not be sure just how long until she blinked against the muck and exhaled water from her nose. There was a piece of wood stuck in her arm, she could feel it even as she lay in the mud, rain pouring down around her. She blinked against the myst-ful water flooding her senses as she rolled over onto her stomach, beset by a coughing fit. The world was awash in colors--she must not have been senseless long enough for her eyes to fade--but the golden light gleaming even as it bled at the edges kept her attention.

Kuyien was trying to make it to her feet, leaning to her left in a way that said she probably sprained her right knee or ankle in the dubious landing. She slid in the slick mud and debris on the riverbank, having be thrown farther than Mikaelhien herself. Her chains lay lifeless on the ground near most of the wooden shrapnel, not close enough for her to call them.

“Mikae?” she called out, loud but somewhat off. Warbled. Had the explosion damaged her ears or was the whistling of the winds from the tornado ripping apart the tree line as it spun itself into death distorting the sound?

Mikaelhien pushed herself to her knees, body aching from the effects of the blast and striking the ground so harshly. It felt like everything hurt, especially her eyes, but she didn’t have the security to shut them away. She had to see through the turbulent storm and predict what else may be coming toward them.

Grey-blue myst swooped through the air like a bird of prey, dropping in front of Kuyien. The person wore a cloak of black and grey, nondescript yet not nearly as wet as it should have been. Protected. The back of the cloak was a bright emblem, a white bird bathed in dark flames. The figure raised a black blade into the air and Mikaelhien knew. Whatever the signs, whatever this meant for her mission, she knew.

She had to act now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone is still following this and I hope this chapter provided some excitement!


End file.
